


Himitsu

by LinneaKou



Series: Suzume [1]
Category: Danny Phantom, Japanese Mythology
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Oni, Youkai, youma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-24 22:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinneaKou/pseuds/LinneaKou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casper High has a new art teacher and a new student. Amity Park is being <strike>visited</strike> attacked by monsters from Japan. These events are totally not connected. <i>OR ARE THEY?</i> (They totally are.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. School

**Author's Note:**

> For Rosa, who wanted me to work on this again.
> 
> So I originally wrote this story in late 2010/early 2011, and looking back on it, it sucks. Thus, the unfinished WIP is still available on FF.net, but I'm not going to keep going in the direction that I was originally taking it. Eaurgh. The premise is pretty much the same, I'm just revamping it (and bettering it, because I've grown as a writer, I think.)
> 
> I'll have a little note at the bottom with translations of the (return of the) gratuitous Japanese that slips into my characters' dialogue. On that note, the work's title ( _himitsu_ ) is translated as "secret". Thrilling, ain't it?
> 
> Fair warning: the story here, as with the original incarnation that I originally published, revolved heavily around original characters who interacted often with canon characters. If OC's aren't your cuppa, this story ain't for you. (There is also some pseudo!ship-sinking and ship!teasing planned. You were warned. /maniacal laughter)
> 
> This series was intended to happen around the time of the third season, extending character arcs and generally hammering out the seasonal decay of the final season (which I still generally do not like). Therefore, Vlad Masters has managed to become Mayor, the world doesn't know Danny Phantom's true identity, and all the stuff that happened leading up to episode 41 ("Eye for an Eye") has happened. This story goes firmly AU from here.
> 
> ~~You happy, Rosa??~~

The first thing that stood out about Casper High was that it was old. Like, really old. As in, probably had had little to no renovation in the fifty-plus years that it had been in business. (And that was in contrast to the rest of the town, which had had enough random damage done to it that a lot of the buildings in downtown Amity Park have been completely revamped.) The school sat squat in the middle of its empty lot that was mostly filled with sports arenas and playing fields, typical for a Midwestern high school that prided itself on its sports program. The building itself was a big brick-covered rectangle, a very simple affair. It was, all in all, a typical American high school straight out of an 80's teen movie.

Kenji Asamoto gulped and slid down in his seat, only to be startled by his sister rapping on the car window.

"Kenji! Let's go!" she chided him, still in Japanese. "You can't hide in there all day, lil' bro."

"Are you sure I have to go to _school_?" he shot back, clutching the door shut as she tried to force it open on him. "Can't you just homeschool me, Nee-san?"

Sara snorted. "You sure you want that?"

Kenji considered it. "Point."

"Out, Nii-chan."

Kenji stuck his tongue out at her and popped the car door open. It wasn't a new car - Sara had bought it used from their neighbors down the street, and it had been old when _they'd_ bought it. But Kenji liked it - a late 90's model with worn leather seats that made growling noises when Sara accellerated. And it was a stick, which was nice.

Sara locked the door behind him as Kenji nervously adjusted the straps on his backpack. " _Shimatta_ ," he muttered.

Sara popped him on the side of the head. "Language."

"Damn it," Kenji corrected, switching to English.

Sara raised her hand menacingly.

Kenji raised his hands and stared at her. "What?"

"American kids don't swear like that. Just say 'crap' or 'crud', and not in front of adults." She poked him on the nose. "Be professional and mature. Adults don't curse."

He stuck his tongue out at her again, and she grabbed it. "Mature," she admonished.

Kenji batted her hand away. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

She handed him one of the boxes sitting on the car's boot and took the other one, swinging her beat-up bag over her shoulder. "I've got my keys, let's go."

"Yippee," Kenji muttered, but he quit complaining quickly.

After all, Sara had only taken this job because of him.

 

* * *

 

 The first thing that people tended to assume when they saw Sara and Kenji together was that they were cousins or aunt and nephew. Several staff members of Casper High had made the same mistake when they ran into the siblings as they set up Sara's new classroom during the last days of summer vacation. People were usually shocked to be corrected.

As far as Kenji could tell, Americans didn't often have huge age gaps between siblings. She'd been ten when Kenji was born, back when they'd lived in Tokyo. He was fifteen now, and she was done with school. Good thing, too - she had to be the breadwinner in this strange land of the U-S-of-A.

There were times at night, as he lay awake in his strange new bedroom, when he wondered why they couldn't have remained in Tokyo. They were selfish times, and he did his best to squash those thoughts. He knew damn well why they couldn't have stayed in Tokyo.

In a way, this was coming home for Sara - she had been born here. Their father had moved to Amity Park to work at the American branch of his company, based in Japan. He'd met their mother here and that was that. Sara had been eight years old when their father was transferred back to Tokyo and their parents decided the whole family would accompany him there. And, save for the few visits to San Francisco to visit their mother's parents (who had since passed) they hadn't really come back to the States since then. At least, not until their parents died in an accident and the family savings began to run out. So when some events beyond their control happened and ruled Tokyo out as a place to stay, Sara had looked back to the town of her birth.

So to say the least, Kenji was feeling a little like a fish out of water. Amity Park was decidedly _not_ San Francisco. He and Sara had, back in Tokyo, lived in an apartment in the city. He'd known no other life.

But things could have been worse. With the savings and life insurance money that their parents had left them, Sara relocated their quasi-family to Amity Park, put a down payment on a small townhouse (thank the Gods, it was a buyer's market here in Amity) and bought the car, and then enrolled Kenji in school. And then she'd gotten hired at Casper High in a stroke of luck when the incumbent art teacher had unexpectedly quit, citing nerves. A teacher's salary wasn't that great, but Sara was a habitual saver and took commissions on the side, so while they'd be living on a tight budget for the foreseeable future, they weren't living in poverty. And she was taking care of almost everything, from monetary stuff like taxes and mortgage and insurance to everyday stuff like laundrey and cooking. Kenji was going to find a part-time job as soon as he could so he could help or at least buy his own clothes.

So really, he could handle going to an American public high school for her. No matter what horrors he'd seen on the many, _many_ movies he'd caught on TV.

 

* * *

 

"You know those movies are over-exaggerations, right?"

Kenji rolled his eyes. "You don't know that."

Sara shrugged and stopped in front of her classroom door. She handed Kenji the other box and fumbled her keys out. "Okay. I think every key to every door is on this ring. _Shimatta_."

" _Language_ ," Kenji mocked in a sing-song voice.

Sara grimaced at him and jangled the keys in his face. "All right, smart guy. You tell me which key is my room key?"

Kenji stared at her. "You seriously can't tell?"

"Why would I be standing here with them if I could?" She selected one at random and tried to push it into the lock. It didn't go all the way in, and she muttered something that sounded like a curse under her breath.

Kenji's arms were starting to get sore. "Hurry up!"

"I'm trying!" Sara tried another key, but it wouldn't turn. "Oh, come on!"

Kenji shot a quick look down the hallway, and it was mostly deserted. "Keys aren't going to work."

Sara stiffened. "No."

"Come _on_ , Nee-san! My arms are going to fall off!"

" _No_."

"No one would see!"

"I said _no_."

Kenji was working his way up to a truly epic speech that would trump any argument his sister could throw at him when a familiar voice rang through the hallway.

"Ah, Miss Asamoto. Glad to see you managed to find your room all right."

And there was Mr. Lancer, assistant principal and one of the multi-subject teachers at Casper High (and, Kenji had found out accidentally, a former cheerleader from his own high school days.) Kenji had only met him once, when Sara had first been hired.

"Mister Lancer!" Sara smiled, and it was mostly bright if a little strained. "Of course I found my room, I've been coming here for a few weeks to move in." She bobbed her head slightly at him, and so did Kenji. The man had a hand in both of their futures, it would be best to treat him with as much respect as possible starting out.

"Are you having trouble there?" Mr. Lancer raised a bushy eyebrow, glancing at the knob with the wrong key still sticking out of it. "I'm pretty sure that's a key to the supply closet."

"I--" Sara blinked down at it. "Oh."

Mr. Lancer tugged the key out and shuffled the keyring. "This one is your room," he said, handing her the key in question.

Sara accepted it gratefully and managed to open the door. "Oh, thank god," she sighed in relielf, taking a box back from Kenji. They trooped in so they could dump their burdens on the tables.

Mr. Lancer stepped in after them. "Well, you've certainly made the space your own," he said approvingly, looking at the manaki-neko statue that sat on Sara's desk. Its paw was bobbing in the customary waving motion, and for a moment the man seemed transfixed.

"Well, this is the last of my stuff," Sara answered over her shoulder, unloading her boxes of cheap acryllic paints. "I'm feeling pretty prepared."

"That's wonderful! We can't wait to see what you're able to bring to our school." Mr. Lancer smiled at her, and it was a professional smile that Kenji noted all adults, no matter what country of origin, seemed to have. He flinched when Mr. Lancer focused on him. "Mister Asamoto, I assume you've got your schedule?"

"Yes sir," Kenji muttered, rummaging aimlessly in his box.

"Then you know that your sister's class is not the first class of your day. In fact, it's homeroom. _My_ homeroom."

"How lucky!" Sara said brightly, clapping her hands. She shot Kenji a meaningful look, and Kenji made a face at her.

"You can help your sister finish setting up, but when the warning bell sounds, you need to make your way upstairs." Mr. Lancer fixed a familiar authoritarian expression on his face and crossed his arms.

"Yes sir," Kenji answered blandly.

"Good lad," Mr. Lancer slapped him on the back and made his way towards the classroom door. "Let me know if either of you need anything at all."

"Thank you," Sara called, and the door shut with a snap.

They rummaged in silence for a moment, and then Sara sighed. "Kenji--"

"No, don't worry about it," Kenji said tonelessly, tossing brushes onto a side table. "I know what you're going to say."

"Nii-chan," Sara straightened and brushed her hair out of her face. "I'm not doing it to be a pain. I just..." she rubbed her forehead. "I have reasons."

"Yeah. I know."

Sara stared at him for a moment and sighed again. "Nii-chan..."

"No, really, I get it." Kenji dumped the box out and tossed it on the ground next to him.

Sara was at his side in a few strides, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and drawing him into a hug. "Don't be angry," she murmured.

"I don't like it here," Kenji whispered, and he was mortified when his voice shook.

"I'm sorry."

"I want to go home."

Sara was silent, but Kenji knew what she was thinking. _We can't_.

They stood there in silence for a minute, and then Kenji squirmed out of her arms and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. "I hate this," he muttered.

"I don't like it either." Sara glanced back at the door. "But it's what we've got to deal with, and we've never backed down from a challenge."

"We've run away," Kenji pointed out, and then instantly regretted it.

Sara's back went rigid. "Sometimes," she said after a moment, her voice strained. "Sometimes all you can do is a tactical retreat."

"Nee-san--"

"Sensei agreed with me."

"I'm not arguing--"

Sara turned on her heel and walked to the whiteboard, kicking her chair out from behind her desk. "I know you're not arguing. I just..." She dropped into the chair and buried her face in her hands. "I only do what I do to keep our family safe."

"I know," Kenji rushed to reassure her. "And I'm grateful. But--"

"But you don't always agree, and that's okay." Sara fixed him with a tired look. "When you're older, you'll understand."

Kenji made a face and leaned back on his heels. "Nee-chan. You did _not_ just say that."

Sara blinked, then her eyes widened. "Oh, god, I'm getting old."

" _Old_ _!_ " Kenji echoed gleefully, grateful that her sour mood was gone.

Sara grabbed a wadded up piece of paper and lobbed it at him. "Get to homeroom, you little gremlin."

"All right, _obasaaaaaaaan_!" Kenji made his exit before Sara could find something else convenient to throw. He escaped, chortling, into the hallway.

While they'd been unpacking (and almost-arguing) the first of the Casper High students had begun to trickle in, filling up the halls. Screams of recognition, teenagers hugging, yelling, making out against the lockers, and generally behaving like monkeys clogged the area. Kenji just kind of watched, dumbfounded, before he squared his shoulders, consulted his schedule, and began to push through the throng.

Back to the more current pressing problem: navigating American high school.

 

* * *

 

Kenji figured out pretty quickly that his luck was running out within the first few minutes of his homeroom class.

For starters, he barely made it in before the final bell rang. Mr. Lancer regarded him with raised eyebrows. "Since this is your first day at this school, I will forgive your tardies. But do try to memorize where your classes are so you don't accumulate any more."

"Yes sir," Kenji panted, making a beeline for the nearest empty desk. He had nearly made it, set down his backpack and all, when Mr. Lancer called him again:

"Mister Asamoto, come on up to the front, please."

Kenji flinched, and a few students nearby murmured in sympathy. He dropped his bag in the seat and did his dead-man's walk to the front of the classroom. Mr. Lancer put a huge hand on his shoulder and gave the class a genial smile. "Students, this is our newest addition to the Casper High family. Everyone, say hello to Kenji Asamoto."

A few students mumbled something unintellitagable, but the rest didn't respond; half of the class had sunk into a trancelike stupor and the other half just didn't care.

"Mister Asamoto comes to us from the country of Japan. Mister Asamoto, is there anything you want to share with your classmates?"

Kenji fidgeted, trying not to meet anyone's eye. "N-not really, no."

Mr. Lancer tutted. "Come now, what of your hobbies?"

"Um..." Kenji cast around for words, _any_ words. Words that might dissuade the two big jocks from eyeing him like he was a piece of meat. "I... I was in my old school's judo club?"

Mr. Lancer let out a bark of laughter. "Ah, how refreshing! The great sport of Japanese wrestling!"

"Not exactly," Kenji muttered, making a face. The kid sitting next to his seat sniggered.

"Well, Mister Asamoto--" Kenji cringed at how awkwardly the teacher pronounced his name. "We look forward to seeing what you bring to our student body. Everyone, be sure to help out Mister Asamoto in adjusting to his new school." Mr. Lancer patted him on the back and sent him back to his desk. Kenji retreated gratefully.

Mr. Lancer surveyed his class. "Now, I know you are all excited to be back from break, but there have been some policy changes. And of course, some announcements for some upcoming events..."

 

* * *

 

It became immediately apparent that Mr. Lancer -  along with presumably every other teacher in the school - expected Kenji to be a perfect student considering that his last school was in Japan.

He was probably going to disappoint them. He'd managed to keep up an average set of scores when it came to school, but save for cello and German, school did not hold much interest to him. And Sara swore up and down that he had ADHD. She was probably right: throughout Mr. Lancer's homeroom and subsequent English class, Kenji found his attention wandering. Thing was, the room was _boring_. Probably a point in Mr. Lancer's favor, except Kenji found himself staring at a single spot on the chalkboard without hearing much of what Mr. Lancer actually said. And he wasn't the only one, thankfully.

For forty-five straight minutes, without a single break, Mr. Lancer lectured on his expectation for the sophomore English class. He reviewed a list of the books they would be reading - titles that Kenji had never heard of - and put an overhead projection of examples of papers up for them to dissect. He spent a lot of time pointing out how badly an "F" paper failed.

Kenji felt his focus slipping. The sharp voice of his old Sensei niggled at the back of his mind, but Sensei had never had to sit through such a boring lecture. Kenji vaguely wondered what Sensei would think of the teachers here. He'd probably be condescending, Kenji decided.

He was startled when the school bell cut off Mr. Lancer in the middle of a sentence and alerted them to the passing period. "Class dismissed," Mr. Lancer barked as the students finally showed signs of life and scrambled en masse to collect their things and escape the stifling room.

Kenji waited until they had all cleared out before making his way out into the bustling hallways. " _Shimatta_ ," he muttered.

 _Language_ , his sister's voice chided him. But the word was a pretty apt description for his situation.

He once again was faced with navigating the unfamilliar halls filled with sweaty, loud, twitchy teenagers. Wishing profusely that he was back in Japan - where the students stayed in one classroom, in one class group (his had been 3-B) and the teachers merely switched classrooms when the allotted time was up - he set out for his next class, which was P.E.

P.E. was supposed to stand for "physical education". Kenji quickly became convinced that it really meant "painful execution" or something equally terrifying. Speaking of terrifying, the teacher for the class was one giant _oni_ of a woman called Ms. Tetslaff. She started the semester off with a bang, proclaiming (very, _very_ loudly) that she was going to "whip you weaklings into rock-hard shape" and that she needed them to participate in some tests to gauge "how much pain I need to bring" to do so.

Kenji had never been so pathetically grateful for the strict fitness regime that his last school had enforced. He was even more grateful that his sister and Sensei had insisted he keep it up when they moved to the States. While the mile-run just about nearly killed him (he forgot to pace himself and ended up sprinting in the beginning before he petered out in the final stretch) he made up for it in flexibility. The pushups and crunches dealt the final blow. The end of the class period found him on his back in the grass in the center of the track, wheezing like a dying man.

But he hadn't come out of it without sweating like a pig, so he stumbled back indoors for a quick shower before hurrying off to the first class that he had been looking forward to all day: orchestra.

He'd been overjoyed to find that the music class wasn't a strict extracurricular and that it would count towards his GPA. He'd brought his cello and dropped it off in the music room the day before, so the orchestra director - a short, balding man with thick glasses named Mr. Benedict - assigned him a locker for his instrument and assorted stuff. They spent the class period auditioning for chairs. Kenji managed to get third chair in the cello section. That was cool.

Fifth period was lunch, and Kenji ended up eating his bento by himself out in the courtyard, under the shade of a large oak tree. He was coming to the end of his stash of juiceboxes that he'd brought from Tokyo, and that thought shouldn't have depressed him as much as it did. He finished eating and got a pass from the lunch monitor to head indoors and drop off his accumulated books in his school locker. He made a detour by Sara's classroom, just to check in on her.

Sara was eating at her desk and looking over the questionnaires from previous class periods. "Hey, Nii-chan," she waved at him. "If I'm not mistaken, your art class isn't until later."

"Just making sure nothing happened to you," Kenji answered, sniffing the air. Sara was burning incense or... "Are you burning sage?"

Sara's mouth twisted to the side. "Um."

"Did you feel anything--"

Sara shook her head. "No, nothing like that. It's just... comforting. That's all."

Kenji eyed her. "Sure."

"Let it go, Nii-chan. How was orchestra?"

 _Smooth redirect_ , Kenji thought, but regaled her nontheless with his accomplishment. "First concert is right around your birthday."

Sara's eyes lit up. "Oh, wonderful!" She grinned at him. "Does that mean I can pick out a song for you to play for me?"

"Solo? Or for the whole orchestra? Because I don't think you can do that."

"Solo then." She rested her chin in her hands. "I like that one Requiem you did last year."

"I'll dig out the sheet music," Kenji promised her. "For your birthday."

"Momo and Izumi will enjoy that," Sara added, giggling.

The memory of high-pitched Shiba screams and Akita barking accompanying his cello practice at home made him wince. "Maybe they'll behave."

"Mmyeah. Probably not." Sara tossed her fork into her lunchbox and leaned back in her seat, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She gasped suddenly and shook her head as it seemed like a static shock passed through her, raising her bobbed hair like she was standing next to a power generator. Kenji watched her with the stirrings of alarm.

"What? What is it?"

"Just..." Sara hiked her cardigan up on her shoulders and chafed her arms. "Just a chill. The air conditioning in the building is funny. That's all."

Kenji just stared at her before shaking his head in disbelief. "River in Egypt."

Sara made a face at him just as the bell for the end of the period rang. "Run along, baby Samurai," she cooed at him.

Kenji stuck his tongue out at her one last time before turning away, fully intending to make a break for his Math class. And he would have made it if it weren't for the fact that his path was blocked by a squat man with blue skin. Who happened to be floating a good foot and a half off of the ground.

Kenji froze. "Um." He glanced over his shoulder. " _Sis_!"

Sara was up from her desk in a flash, her face white with alarm. She skidded to a halt and stared once she caught sight of the ghost (and what else could it be, but a ghost?)

The ghost glared at them (albeit a bit dimly) before raising his hands in a pseudo-menacing gesture and shouting " _BEWARE!_ "

" _Shimatta_ ," Sara muttered, and Kenji didn't even bother to call her on it.

And then all hell broke loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Japanese translations for those of you readers who aren't animu:
> 
>  _Nee-san / Onee-san_ = "sis" or "big sister", used as an affectionate term by a younger sibling for an older sister (sometimes used by someone addressing a mentor in their age group or a similar situation. Male equivalent is _Onii-san_ and _Nii-san_ , et cetera.)
> 
>  _Nii-chan / onii-chan_ = "little brother", used as an affectionate term by an older sibling for a younger brother. (Female equivalent is _Nee-chan_ and _Onee-chan_ , et cetera.)
> 
>  _Shimatta_ = "damn it" or generally a mild curse. Kids are exposed to curses pretty early, and while swearing in polite company is generally frowned upon, it's not as taboo as it is here (or in the U.S. at least.)
> 
>  _Manaki-neko_ = literally, "waving" or "beckoning cat", referring to the popular Japanese statue of a cat with its paw raised. They are often placed in places of business to bring luck and prosperity. They're also popular souvenirs for tourists.
> 
>  _Sensei_ = "teacher" or "master". (You probably already knew that, right?)
> 
>  _Obasan_ = "auntie", often used to refer to an older woman that may or may not be related to the speaker. (Calling a woman "old" is just as ill-received in Japan as it is in the U.S.)
> 
>  _Oni_ = a Japanese ogre, found often in Shinto-based mythology.
> 
> Mr. Lancer mixes up judo, a grappling martial art discipline, with sumo wrestling.
> 
> Japanese schools do indeed operate thus: classes are assigned to one group. The students stay in one classroom and one group (think 1-A, 1-B/2-A, 2-B) throughout the school day (breaking for lunch and gym) and the teachers switch classrooms for different subjects. They also operate on number scores instead of letter grades, and while a 60% isn't exactly good, it's not failing. And yes, they do make misbehaving students stand in the hall.
> 
> "Shiba" and "Akita" are short for Shiba and Akita Inu, two Japanese breeds of dog that are members of the Spitz family. They are popular pets world-wide and are noted for their high intelligence and difficulty in training. The Shiba is well-known for something called the "Shiba scream", which is exactly what you think it is.
> 
> Finally, the title of the series overall, _Suzume_ , is Japanese for "sparrow".
> 
> Next chapter will have more of the main canon cast.


	2. Art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still for Rosa. Sorry it took a while.
> 
> It should be noted that I suck at writing action scenes.
> 
> Also, Danny totally thinks out loud in canon.

Danny Fenton was bound and determined, come the new school year, that he'd manage to be on-time to all of his classes come ghost apocalypse or... or... something else involving ghosts and puns. Of course, determination and intent didn't really matter when the town he lived in was like a beacon to ghosts.  _Note to self, look into college out-of-state. Yeah, college isn't for two years. Doesn't hurt to start looking._

He froze in the middle of the hallway as his Ghost Sense went off, and Jazz looked at him with a half-pitying, half-exasperated expression. "Gotta go?" she asked, even though they both knew that she already knew the answer.

"Hold my bag," he said in way of reply, shoving his backpack at her. He looked left, then right, then ducked into the janitor's closet.

"I have class on the other side of the school!" Jazz yelled after him, but Danny had already Gone Ghost and was following his Ghost Sense towards the Fine Arts wing.

He was rarin' to go, all pumped up for a big fight... until he caught sight of the ghost who had tripped his sense. He skidded to a mid-air halt and shook his head. "Man, it says something about my life when I'm actually disappointed in the bad guy of the day."

The Box Ghost was floating in front of the art classroom's doorway, brandishing boxes full of files and papers (the one that nearly whacked him in the face was from the English department) at the new kid that Lancer had dragged to the front of the class earlier in the day. To the kid's credit, he merely looked taken aback instead of terrified. The woman behind him, however, looked scared stiff. She grabbed the new kid and dragged him back into the classroom, slamming the door shut on the Box Ghost.

Well, all the better. At least he wouldn't have an audience.

"My god," Danny groused, coming up behind the Box Ghost. "Your timing is the worst. Seriously. I have _class_ in five minutes!"

"I do not _care_ about your studies!" the Box Ghost shouted back. "And my _timing_ is perfect, for the entire school is _filled_ with boxes! My time has come!"

Danny just stared at him for a moment, genuinely speechless. "I cannot believe I just lived through that. I cannot believe that this moment in time happened. What is my _life_ ," he finally said flatly.

" _BEWARE!!_ " the Box Ghost yelled at him.

"Dude. Not even going to bother with this," Danny muttered, pulling out the Fenton Thermos.

"Aw, come on!"

"Nope, time to get in the Thermos." Danny activated the capture function on the Thermos and aimed it at the Box Ghost, who wailed something about "that cylindrical container" as it did its job.

"First day of school," Danny muttered as the hall fell silent, the boxes dropping to the floor and spilling papers everywhere. "This year can only get better, right?" He turned intangible and made his escape before someone could come investigate the ruckus that the Box Ghost tended to create.

"You know," he said to himself as he made his way to his locker to drop off the Thermos. "I probably jinxed myself with that." He considered that thought before shrugging. "Meh. Not like my life could get even weirder than it already is." With that, he slammed his locker shut as the bell rang for class.

 

* * *

 

The new kid stumbled into Math a minute after Danny did, looking none the worse for wear. Danny mentally reevaluated the guy; Japan must have been weirder than he'd previously known.

"Mister Asamoto," Ms. Loo admonished, annoyed at yet another late student interrupting her syllabus day lecture. "I will thank you to not be late for my class again. I expect punctuality from all of my students."

The kid - what was his name? Ken? - didn't protest or even mention the rogue ghost attack. He just nodded and took the last empty seat, two rows over and one row up from Danny.

Ms. Loo sniffed and handed him a textbook before going back to her dry reading of the class syllabus. (And seriously, why were they spending a whole day going over the syllabus for math??)

The rest of the class went by without any more wierd incidents, and Danny kept eyeing the new kid as they filed out of the room.

"Dude, you're approaching creeper levels of secret watching," Tucker elbowed him, and Danny elbowed him back.

"First ghost attack of the school year," he muttered to Sam and Tucker, who exchanged exasperated grimaces.

"Who's the offender?" Sam asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Just the Box Ghost. Maybe this year will be slow?"

Tucker literally facepalmed. "Dude, you just jinxed us! Now there's gonna be, like, a zombie apocalypse or something."

"A little positive thinking never hurt anyone, Tuck." Danny rummaged in his backpack (which Jazz had kindly left for him in his locker) for his schedule. "What do you guys have next?"

"Intro to Art," Tucker and Sam answered in unison.

"Sweet. Oh. Wait. That hallway was the site of a paper explosion." They turned down the hallway in question and were treated to the sight of the school's overworked janitor sweeping the papers into a pile with a broom. The new art teacher was shooing students around him as he worked. "Huh. That was quick."

Sam raised her eyebrow at the dead tree carnage. "What did he think he was going to accomplish? Mass papercuts?"

"Dude, I don't even know anymore," Danny deadpanned as they picked their way around the mess.

When they got into the classroom, they were greeted a slew of spitballs from Dash's table. Danny wiped the spitballs out of his face and glared at Dash, who grinned at him and waved his straw.

Danny gleefully imagined overshadowing Dash and marooning him in the girl's bathroom. Sam grabbed his shoulders and steered him in the opposite direction. "Easy, tiger," she said quietly. "New year, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Danny responded flatly.

The new kid, Asamoto, was sitting alone at the only table that still had spots. He looked like he'd been on the receiving end of a few spitballs himself. _So much for knowing martial arts_ , Danny thought.

Tucker dropped his backpack on the table. "Yo, alright if we take the seats here?"

The new kid shrugged.

The art teacher, passing by their table, gave him a long look and sighed. So they knew each other. Well, they were both Asian and new to the school. That made sense. She bumped the new kid's shoulder and said something to him in another language. The kid rolled his eyes at her. She chuffed him on the top of his head and walked up to the front of the class just as the bell rang.

The classroom was still buzzing as the new students, all secretly testing the patience of the new teacher, kept chatting with their tablemates. Sam was eyeing the whiteboard behind the desk at the front. Danny followed her gaze, but his attention was caught by a statue of a white cat sitting on the teacher's desk. Its paw was bobbing. It was hypnotic.

"I smell something funny," Tucker said, his nose wrinkling up.

"Incense," the new kid said.

"Really?" Sam repeated, swiveling back to stare at him. "Don't people burn that to get rid of evil spirits?"

The kid shrugged. "Not this stuff. My sister just likes the smell."

Tucker did a double take. "Dude, that's your _sister_?"

The kid nodded.

Tucker looked back up at the new art teacher. "Dang."

"She's out of your league," the kid added, leveling a venomous glare at Tucker.

Tucker ignored him.

"Don't worry about Tuckerino," Sam said to the kid, grinning. "He's got all the charm of a piece of moldy cheese."

The new kid snorted and Sam held out her hand. "I'm Sam Manson," she offered, sounding more friendly than she usually did.

The new kid took it, looking a little surprised at her forwardness. "Kenji."

Sam nodded at him. "Nice to meet you! Danny," she said, elbowing him inthe side. "Say hi."

Danny snapped out of his daze and glanced over, confused. "Huh?"

"That's Danny Fenton," Sam jerked her thumb at him. "He's not usually this out of it."

"Dude, I can't help it," Danny protested. "It smells funny in here!"

"Incense," Sam informed him.

Danny blinked at her. "What?"

"Our new teacher burns incense."

"It gets rid of the smells that come with painting," Kenji explained, "She uses oil paints, and turpenoid to clean her brushes," he said to Sam, looking embarassed. "It's really strong, which is why she burns the incense. I have no idea what kind she's burning, to be honest."

"Well whatever it is, it's putting me to sleep." Danny let his head thump down onto the table. It felt heavy all of a sudden.

And he wasn't the only one. The class quieted down as the new art teacher wound through the aisles, handing out papers. She set them down next to Danny's face and tapped the table. "You might want to wake up now," she said, and Danny jerked upright. She handed him another syllabus - probably the shortest one he'd gotten that day - plus a questionnaire and a piece of blank paper. "Don't worry about those," she added to the table at large. "I'll just say my bit and then we'll do a little activity."

"More fun than math class," Tucker muttered, and the new teacher laughed.

"I remember syllabus day," she said, tapping her chin.

"No you don't," Kenji answered boredly.

"You don't think we had syllabus day when I lived here?"

Kenji rolled his eyes. "You left while you were in elementary school. High schools don't have syllabi in Japan."

"I've lived through college," his sister protested.

"Go teach the class!" Kenji hissed, and she chuffed him lightly on the head before making her way up to the front of the classroom.

There had been a quiet buzzing, but once the new teacher reached the front and cleared her throat, everyone fell silent. She smiled and dropped her papers on her desk. "Hi. You all still awake? I know it's been a long morning, I'm sure your brains are about to leak out your ears with all the information dropped on you today. And I guess the incense isn't helping either..." she hurried to a window and shoved it open. A gust of fresh air washed in, and Danny felt his head clearing.

"Sorry about that, it's my relaxation incense." She grabbed a piece of chalk and began to write quickly on the board. What she was writing, Danny had no clue. It was in Japanese, probably.

Kenji sighed on Sam's other side. "Showoff."

The new teacher brushed her hands off on her jeans and gestured at the board. "Asamoto Sara." She tapped under a symbol after each symbol. "You can call me Sara or Miss A. Art teachers are allowed to be weird, right?"

A few students laughed quietly, and Miss A came around to the front of her desk so she could lean against it. "Okay, so I know you guys have a lot of classes and stuff to keep straight, so I'm gonna keep this simple. This syllabus that you have in your hands has my contact information and class rules on one side and a tentative calendar on the other side. Go over the calendar whenever you have time. As for rules, I have just a few." She held up a finger. "One: you treat everyone in this room with the same sort of respect you want aimed at you. Two--" she held up another finger. "You put some effort into the work I assign. This ties back into the respect thing. I know this is just an optional class for some of you, but I still expect some effort. I mean, come on. Most of the stuff I assign will be simple enough. And I'm handing you a chance to be creative on a silver platter. Have fun with this class, and the effort will be easy. Savvy?" She looked at them expectantly.

The class murmured affirmatives and nodded.

"Cool. So that's basically pretty much the entire front side of the syllabus condensed into two rules, but the in-depth stuff is there for you to read if you need clarification. Now," she gestured at the table in front of her. "You should have gotten a questionnaire. Anyone not get one?"

A few hands went up, and she grabbed a stack of papers from her desk and handed a few more out. "Okay. So take a few minutes to fill this out. This isn't for a grade, it's just for me to get to know you all and figure out where we all are." At the (few, quiet) groans from some of the kids, she snorted. "No whiners. Literally the easiest quiz you've probably seen today."

Danny thought back to P.E. and winced. _Yeah._

He looked the paper over, and it was basic enough.  _What art history have you covered in other classes? What kind of experience do you have with paint/charcoal/ink/markers?_ Simple stuff.

Filling it out took less than five minutes (" _single word answers allowed!!_ ") and when everyone was finished, Miss A gathered them up and set them on her desk. "Now, you should have a blank sheet of paper. That wasn't a mistake; I want you all to fancy-write your names on them and decorate them with stuff you like. We're putting them up on that wall there--" she pointed at the huge back wall, which was half-empty. The other half had papers like she'd described pinned up with lots of space between them. "Once you all finish some projects that you really like, you're going to pin them by your nametag. That way we get to see some progression through the semester. Also, you're required to have at least three pieces up on that wall before we finish up the semester. For a grade."

Groans.

"Come on, you big babies. Easiest grades I can offer. You put three pieces - that  _you_ made - that you happen to think are really nice. Up on a wall. Easy!" she waved a hand in front of her face. "What did I say before? Seriously, this might be the easiest bit of classwork you get today. Don't whine."

A few murmurs, and Kenji snorted a little. "Nice to see I'm not the only one she tells that to," he muttered.

"She must be a riot to live with," Sam said to him.

"No, she's cool." He pulled the basket of markers in the middle of the table towards him. "Most of the time."

Danny and Tucker exchanged shrugs and both snagged markers out of the basket as well. As everyone settled into their "assignment", Miss A turned on the radio on her desk. Rock music, probably (definitely) in Japanese, began to play.

"This radio hooks up to MP3 players, but it also does standard CD's. If you guys have music you want to bring in, feel free. I have to vet it, though. And no cussing or profanity or anything like that. School-appropriate, if you all would." She grinned. "This is a band called Onibaba. I listen to them whenever I'm painting. Maybe you'll get the feel for them too."

Sam was bobbing her head a little. "I have no idea what they're saying, but I like it."

"It's a love song," Kenji told her. "The girl left him because her life got hard, but he's offering her an ear in case she wants support."

Sam's eyebrows went up. "That's actually really sweet, for such a harsh-sounding song."

"That's Onibaba. They're Sara's favorite group." Kenji finished writing complicated-looking symbols in the middle of his sheet and began writing his name in English underneath in parenthesis. "She met the lead singer once and got a commission out of it. He tweets at her a lot. He's actually really cool. His fangirls hate Sara because he kissed her on the cheek in public once. Just a friendly peck, but fangirls in Japan are scary."

Tucker stared at him. "Whoa, wait. She's famous?"

"Sort of. She gets a lot of commissions because of the Onibaba one, but she's not an idol. She doesn't have a fanclub or anything." Kenji shrugged.

"Why did she come here, then?" Tucker pressed.

Kenji shrugged again. "She wanted stability, and some stuff happened in Japan. She thought it was better to come here again."

Sam shook her head. "But still, to walk away from all that?"

"It's not that bad. She still talks to her friends through the Internet."

Danny looked back up at Miss A, who was flipping through the questionnaires she'd gotten from them. "So the new art teacher at a school for less than two-thousand is secretly a one-time celebrity artist?"

"Pretty much," Kenji answered.

"Wow," Danny was impressed. "That's kinda cool."

"She's actually a huge nerd," Kenji added, smiling wryly. "She reads comics obsessively and sews her own clothes and sometimes costumes for events like conventions. And you haven't seen her UFO catcher collection. She spent three hours in an arcade once, trying to get a plush doll out of a claw machine. She had a crowd going by the time she finally got it."

"Oh my god," Tucker sniggered. "She's worse than me."

"No, you're still worse," Sam deadpanned.

"Aw, come on!"

"The geek doth protesteth too much," Danny (probably) misquoted, right as Sam replied "Says the guy who set up camp for the new A-Phone two days before it went live."

"One time," Tucker muttered. "One time and you can't let it go."

"Dude," Danny laughed, still drawing on his nametag. "We are  _never_ going to let that go."

Tucker mock-glared at him, then his right hand jabbed out, still holding the marker. He scored a hit of bright blue on Danny's nose.

"Oh no you  _didn't_ \--" Danny retaliated with a green marker. He got Tucker's ear.

"You're going  _down_ , Fenton!"

"Come on, you two!" Miss A called from the front of class. "Body painting is for advanced classes only."

Sam snickered as she continued to doodle purple bats all over her paper. "And this is why I stick around."

 

* * *

 

The next class was remedial history. Sam and Tucker had already taken and passed basic American History class, but all the ghost hunting had put a cramp in Danny's studying. So. Yeah. Failed.

He waved to his friends when they seperated, Sam and Tuck heading off to cooking class. He turned to head back upstairs to the Lib Arts department and nearly walked into Kenji.

"Whoops, sorry about that."

Kenji shrugged at him and started upstairs. Danny followed, and in an attempt to dismiss the awkward silence, asked, "Where're you headed?"

"Remedial history."

"Huh. Same here."

Kenji looked at him strangely. "But you've lived here forever. Why are you taking remedial?"

Danny considered many answers, then made a face. "I'm not a good test-taker."

Kenji regarded him blankly for a minute, then shook his head. "Sure. Right."

They actually made the class before the bell rang, and it looked like Lancer had drawn the short straw because he was standing at the head of the class with crossed arms. "Better, Mister Asamoto," he said. "You would do well not to follow Mister Fenton's more frequent example, however."

Danny was too used to comments like that to blush or feel anything, but Kenji frowned. "Yes sir," he finally said, and he and Danny made for the back of the room, for seats by the window.

"Does Mister Lancer not like you or something?" Kenji muttered as the bell finally rang, signalling the start of class.

"Naw, it's more like constant disappointment in my underachievement or something."

Kenji snorted under his breath, and then jerked back as Lancer dropped the textbook on the desk in front of him.

"I want these covered," Lancer said loudly. "To avoid damages."

"Hard to do that when the whole book gets tossed in the toilet," one of the guys to the right, probably Leonard, said.

"Well then, don't take the book into the bathroom with you," Lancer suggested dryly.

Danny made a note to never take the book out of his locker. He saw Dash and Kwan high-five each other in the front row.

"Now, let us begin. We'll start with the syllabus."

Oh. Goody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna be a short one today. Whoop.
> 
> I cannot confirm if the manaki-neko is enchanted.
> 
> The band Onibaba does not exist. And yes, I borrowed the name from Pacific Rim.
> 
> I had an art teacher like Sara, once. And now I'm getting my Bachelor's in Fine Arts. Huh.
> 
> Also, Sara's intro art class would be considered "fine arts" in high school and grouped in with music and theatre. Liberal arts is more like English/writing, and sometimes stuff like social science, psychology, and history are lumped in with that. (It makes sense if you grew up with it.)


	3. History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since _Danny Phantom_ ran in the early 2000's and since I'm trying to update it/keep it set in modern day, Tucker's tech got upgraded. He now has a top-of-the-line smartphone! If this were in the Marvel universe (don't put it past me) it'd be a Starkphone, but it's just an A-phone. (A-PHONE, THE IPHONE KILLER!)

Kenji figured out very quickly that he was not going to like the remedial American history class.

Mr. Lancer tackled this subject the same way he did his English courses: with a speaking voice a few shades shy of a monotone. And the subject matter that they would cover - according to  _yet another syllabus_ , good grief - looked to be pretty boring. Kenji had already gone through close to ten years of Japanese history. Someone much more studious and book-friendly would probably have been interested to see how differently both sides to shared history were portrayed.

Let it be known that Kenji was not studious or book-friendly. Once they got out of the Japanese feudal era, he stopped paying attention in school.

 _Silly and shallow_ , Sensei's voice rang through his head.  _One who wins the war dictates how the story is told from there on_.

Kenji let his head fall onto his desk and breathed a long sigh.

"Dude, you okay?"

It was barely a whisper, but then again Fenton was seated right next to him and Mr. Lancer was on the other side of the room, wrestling with yet another old-fashioned projector.

Kenji turned to the side and met Fenton's concerned gaze. "I'm fine," he answered. "Tired."

"Don't blame you," Fenton muttered, and then the lights went off. Mr. Lancer finally managed to untangle the projector's cord enough so that he could plug it into the outlet at the front of the room.

"Now," he said, switching it on--

There was a loud popping noise, and the bulb in the base of the projector exploded. The students sitting near it yelped and threw themselves back as smoke began to puff out of the ruined piece of equipment.

" _Much Ado About Nothing_!!" Mr. Lancer shouted.

Next to him, Fenton gasped like someone had dropped a piece of ice down his shirt.

Mr. Lancer had already dashed out into the hall and returned with a bright red fire extinguisher. He fired a stream of white foam at the source of the smoke as one of the jocks up front yanked the plug out at his barked orders. There was a long, quiet moment as the the projector hissed and smoked and bubbled.

"Well," Mr. Lancer finally said. "I. Ah. Allow me to call for maintenance."

Kenji closed his eyes and let his head fall to the desk again.

_Of course this would be how my first day would go._

 

* * *

  

Sam Manson and Tucker Foley were waiting for Fenton right outside the classroom door once the bell rang for the changing period. Kenji was about to skirt them entirely and dive right into the crowd to find his next class when Manson called his name.

"Kenji? It's Kenji, right? Can I call you Ken?"

Kenji made a face. "Just Kenji."

Manson, to her credit, didn't take offense. "Okay. Sure. You need help finding your next class?"

Behind her, Foley and Fenton were exchanging bewildered looks.

Kenji hefted his bag on his shoulder. "It shouldn't be that hard."

"We know shortcuts," Manson practically sang. She was almost smug. "C'mon, what do you have next?"

Kenji hesitated, then checked his schedule. "Chemistry, with Sutter?"

"We can cut through the library," Foley said..

Kenji considered it, and the niggling voice at the back of his head - the one that sounded like Sara - said  _it might be helpful to have friends_. "Okay," he finally said. "Lead the way. I don't need to be tardy."

"Looks like you got the same schedule as us," Manson said, turning on her heel. "We have chemistry too."

"With Sutter?"

Foley snorted. "This is kind of a small school. Sutter is the only chemistry teacher here."

"Can I see your schedule?" Manson asked, holding out a hand.

Kenji handed it over with little trepidation. She scanned it as she walked, effortlessly navigating around - and sometimes elbowing aside - people that got in her way. "Yeah, whoever's in charge of scheduling isn't very creative. Lots of overlap."

"Is that bad?" Kenji asked, confused.

"Nah. Just means that groups end up in all the same classes. Makes for a more unified graduating class and stuff." Manson handed his schedule back to him.

Fenton grumbled. "It also means having Dash in almost every class."

"Almost," Foley grinned. "Because he actually passed American History."

"I have an excuse!" Fenton jabbed a finger at his giggling friend. "And it's a good one!"

"Yeah, dude, I know," Foley punched Fenton's shoulder.

"Danny here has ghost hunters for parents," Manson explained, even though Kenji was barely interested. Well, okay, _that_ perked up his interest quick.

"Ghost hunters?" Kenji repeated. "As in, paranormal investigators?"

"Pretty much. They make all this cool tech and stuff." Manson's dark eyes sparkled. "And since Amity Park is pretty much infested with spooks, they're in the perfect spot to set up shop."

"Ghost hunters," Kenji said to himself. "How much experience do they have?"

Fenton cleared his throat. "Uh, they're professionals? I guess? Can you get degrees and certifications for ghost hunting?" he asked Foley, who shrugged.

"They might as well, considering all the activity here." Foley pulled out a slim smartphone and woke it up. "I don't think Amity Community College has any classes for it."

"Oh geez, don't say that!" Fenton moaned. "Next thing you know, they'll make one and have my parents teach it!"

"Or just your mom." Foley added, his eyebrows up.

"No, my dad would teach too. It would be horrifying."

"And full of fudge," Manson chimed in.

Foley gave her a long look. "You're being really cheerful today," he said suspiciously. "You sure you're not a ghost?"

Manson snorted. "Very funny, Tucker."

"I'm serious! Are you being overshadowed? Danny, quick, check her!"

"She's fine, Tuck."

Manson elbowed Foley in the side as Kenji trailed behind the group, watching amusedly. "Can't a girl be happy? I mean, we finally have a cool teacher in this place!"

"You're referring to Sara?" Kenji asked. "I wouldn't call her 'cool', per se."

"She's a lot cooler than a lot of the other teachers here. I hear she threatened an upperclassman with detention for trying to lock a freshman in his locker." Manson was practically skipping with glee.

Foley and Fenton both glanced back at Kenji. "Yeah," Fenton said, his eyebrows waggling. "I'd call that pretty cool."

"Isn't that basic human decency?" Kenji argued.

"When the upperclassman in question is a member of the varsity football team? Not so much." Foley quickly hid his phone in his cargo pants as they passed a teacher. "They never get in trouble and get passed in all their classes, even the ones that they're failing."

"Notice, to your left - oh, how convenient - the school trophy case." Fenton dramatically swept an arm, directing Kenji's gaze towards a glass case backed by mirrors and lit with strategically-placed lights. It was indeed stuffed full of trophies, medals, and other accolades.

"About eighty-nine percent of those are for sports and athletics," Foley said matter-of-factly. "Casper High prides itself on producing some of the best underage athletes in the Midwest."

"So basically, if any varsity players are in trouble of losing their spots on a team destined for finals and championships? Poof. Fixed." Manson glared at the case. "Meanwhile, the fine arts department keeps getting budget cuts. We'd probably lose it if it weren't for the superintendent."

Kenji silently absorbed this information. "I'm in orchestra," he said slowly.

"Good for you, dude," Fenton said. "But you're not gonna get an award for it."

"You never know. Someone from this school might end up world-famous. Kenji here could be the next Yo-Yo Ma," Manson argued.

"Yo Mama?" Foley made a face.

Kenji bristled. "Yo-Yo Ma. Cellist."

Fenton laughed. "Who names their kid Yoyo?"

"His parents are Chinese." Manson informed him loftily.

"He's one of my heroes," Kenji admitted.

"Good hero," Manson told him.

Foley looked him over. "You really know Judo, though?"

"Well, I've trained a little in it. A little in everything, I guess."

"Kendo?" Foley pressed.

"A little. My sister actually does it more than me. I've always preferred hand-to-hand, unarmed fighting." Kenji shrugged. "She insisted though. For that international festival, she's planning on doing a demonstration."

"Oh, cool! Are you gonna do it with her?" Fenton actually looked intrigued.

Kenji shrugged. "Probably. Unless someone else here has Japanese-style martial arts training."

"Most likely, no."

"Dude, that is so awesome! You think you can teach me?" Fenton actually hung back so Kenji could draw even with him.

Kenji eyed the other kid. He was slightly taller, rather thin and willowy but with the promise of a more sinewy build. "I don't know about me teaching, but you could probably pick it up. Why?"

Fenton looked away quickly. "Uh. For self-defense."

"You get bullied too?"

All three of them got shifty looks on their faces. "Well, yeah. We're not popular kids or anything," Manson said. "We're not mainstream. So yeah, we tend to get picked on."

"Birds of a feather," Kenji commented.

They had arrived at the science wing while they were talking, and they all quickly found the lab they were assigned to.

"Dude, think about it though," Fenton almost pleaded. "That could be really cool."

"We could start a club!" Foley suggested.

Kenji rolled his eyes. "A club of four?"

"That's enough for a club! All we'd need is a staff sponsor, and I'd be willing to bet your sister would totally step in."

Well, he had a point there. Maybe there was something to the idea. Plus, it wouldn't hurt to have some friends to practice with. Or on.

Actual human friends. Who didn't bark and shed fur.

"I'll ask her," Kenji said, and Foley and Fenton high-fived as the bell rang.

 

* * *

 

 

There wasn't an art class until next hour, so Sara locked her classroom behind her - she finally stuck a sticker on the relevant key for future reference - and stepped into the deserted hallway. The lack of incense hit her first, and she coughed a little at the dingy smell of the linoleum and old plaster ceilings. "Just like I remember it," she said under her breath.

She shoved her keys into her back pocket and headed for the teachers' lounge, hoping that they at least had an electric kettle or some sort of water heater.

It wasn't that she  _wanted_ to live on ramen, but it wasn't like she had much of a choice either. And the nearest Asian market was in the next town over, which meant she couldn't rely on her staples from when they lived in Tokyo. So, making do was a must.

Still, when that first paycheck came in, she'd be able to get an even bigger selection of groceries. They were used to living on a shoestring budget, Kenji and her, but she was looking forward to cooking again.

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket, and she pulled it out. It was from a patron back in Tokyo - one of the managers for the J-punk band Doomtree:  _are you still doing commissions?_

Sara grinned. Even better. Taking commissions would definitely help with the budget. _Please e_ _mail me_ , she responded.  _I'm at my day job at the moment._

 _Of course. Look for it when you're able_.

She was going to be indebted to Mister Hiyde - real name Ishiyama Koji - for a long time. Ever since Onibaba commissioned an album cover, various underground rock and metal groups had been after her to do art for them. Of course, the fact that she capitalized on her paintings and tailored them to fit the image of the bands meant that a lot of art critics tended to scoff at her work. Still, it meant a little wiggle room in terms of money. The fees for enrolling Kenji in this school were astronomical.

Still, being in America meant she had access to her mother's trust funds set aside for her and her brother, plus her inheritance from her grandparents on that side. Which reminded her, she still had to teleconference with that lawyer in San Francisco.

 _Being an adult is hard_ , she thought ruefully. But she only allowed herself to be melancholy for a second--

She felt it first, a shiver down her spine that made her gasp. Her very breath felt frozen, the air was too still, and she could feel every hair on her body standing on end.

" _Shimatta_ ," she muttered, looking around and trying to shake the static buzz off.

The lights above her sputtered and flickered out. They were the big industrial fluorescent ones, and she knew intellectually that such things happening weren't unusual, but then another set flickered and died. And then another. And another.

"You know," she said loudly, "It's rude to play this sort of game."

"Oh, I suppose this is where I reveal myself and make with the monologuing," a cool female voice echoed through the seemingly empty hallway.

Sara closed her eyes and focused on slowing her breathing.

"So. Fresh meat. I haven't seen you here before." The voice was closer, in front of her, slightly to the left.

"I'm new."

"I can see that," the disembodied voice purred, and Sara fought to keep a grimace off of her face. "First day?"

"Not really, no."

"I suppose going on the defensive is a natural response to someone questioning your place, your right to be here." The unseen intruder laughed, a tinkling sound that made the hairs on the back of Sara's neck and arms stand up. "You're obviously not a student, so that means that someone finally lowered the teaching standards."

"Is that supposed to be an insult?" Sara smirked. "Please. I've been dealing with teenagers for years now. Why don't you come out of hiding and face me like you still have a spine?"

"Oooh, this one has guts on her!" a new voice remarked, almost delightedly. "Can I do it? Please? It'll be so much fun!"

"Patience, dear," the female answered smoothly, and damn but Sara was hoping that no one would be coming out into this particular hallway anytime soon. "I have a funny feeling that Miss Smartass might have something to do with the strong spectral energy that suddenly popped up around here."

Sara rolled her eyes. " _Shimatta_ ," she said again. And so soon after that almost-argument earlier with Kenji too.

"What's the matter, dear?" the female asked, finally fading into view. She was a tall ghost, looking to be a well-preserved middle-aged woman with red hair styled in a devil-horns hairdo and wearing a tight business suit. A short ghost appeared next to her; this one was a formless shape of green goo, with piercing red eyes and a wicked smile. "You look like you've seen a ghost!" the female laughed.

Sara shrugged. "Meh. I've seen worse." She brought her hands together in front of her face and focused on building a good charge. "How about a little electromagnetic therapy?  _Akuryo taisan!_ " She threw the ball of energy she'd managed to scrub up, lobbing it right at them. The attack hit the ground right in front of the ghosts and it was like a bomb going off, except with less physical damage. Well, okay, the lights overhead exploded and it caused an electromagnetic pulse that was probably enough to force her phone to reboot, but it was enough to rattle the ghosts in front of her.

"Wha--" the female gasped, backpedaling. The pile of ectoplasm next to her was barely holding onto its form, but was still sparing enough energy to snarl at Sara.

"Want another taste?" Sara challenged them, hoping they wouldn't call her bluff; she wasn't sure she could pull off another EMP without--

Well, without resorting to  _that_.

"What the hell are you?" the ecto-blob demanded.

"Former miko, magical girl, take your pick." Sara wasn't even sure they even knew what she was referencing, but she didn't care. She just needed to keep control of the situation long enough for the tides to actually turn in her favor.

"She's dangerous, Bertrand!" the female yowled. "Retreat!"

They disappeared, dashing through the walls, and Sara felt the temperature even out. The tension evaporated almost instantly, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

" _Shimatta_ ," she said again, scrubbing a hand through her short hair. "I'm going to have to wait for dinner, aren't I?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> " _Akuryo taisan_ " = Shinto incantation that basically means "Spirits/demons begone!"
> 
> The soundtrack for this story now includes BABYMETAL. Help, they're too cute! Here's my preferred BGM of choice: [MEGITSUNE](http://youtu.be/cK3NMZAUKGw). [Lyrics here.](http://du-metal.blogspot.ca/2013/07/megitsune.html) And hey, the subject's relevant for future arcs!
> 
> ~~Maybe a kitsune will make it in? They're so common, though...~~
> 
> [Yo, check out the O-bakemono project's wiki.](http://obake.wikispaces.com/) Maybe someone will figure out why Mr. Lancer is having electrical trouble.
> 
> Also, you all should totally go out and rent/buy/stream Joss Whedon's _Much Ado About Nothing_.
> 
> Would anyone be interested in the artwork I've managed to spit out for this?


	4. Study Hall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EMP = electromagnetic pulse, in case someone here hasn't seen _Pacific Rim_ or read something involving Iron Man. Layman speak: an EMP can cause electronic devices to short out and sometimes cause data corruption and loss. So, not a good thing to do in a place filled with computers.
> 
> Also, I guess Sara's going to be getting some POV time now. ~~Hooray!~~
> 
> Unless stated otherwise, assume Kenji and Sara communicate with each other in Japanese.
> 
> And I'm going to admit outright, I'm writing this like I would write a comic/manga. Sorry if it seems corny, but I want a specific feel to it.
> 
> (Minor trigger warning: a character gets an anxiety attack during this chapter. It's not explicitly described, but it's there.)

Kenji knew something had gone down by the way that the lights flickered overhead. He heard people gasp and squeal and generally freak out around him, but he waited for the telltale silence that came after his sister unleashing an EMP. He was mildly shocked when the computers didn't shut down, which meant that whatever she'd done, it was minor. She'd probably been surprised.

He itched to go and find her, grill her about what had happened, but apparently electric malfunctions happened a lot at Casper High, because Mr. Sutter called for everyone's attention and continued reading from his ( _another!!_ ) syllabus.

"I guess we shouldn't freak out unless something literally pops into the room," Foley commented, and Kenji made a face.

"I'd apologize about all the weird stuff happening here, but it'd be pointless," Manson whispered to his left. He met her deadpan stare, and she cracked a small smile at him.

Kenji, for a second, was terrified. Was she  _flirting_ with him? He'd never... no girl had ever slipped love letters into his shoe locker, or given him chocolates on Valentine's day. Never.  _Never ever_. He literally had a mental Blue Screen of Death trying to process it.

Was this how American girls flirted? Well, Samantha Manson was not like the mainstream girls that the movies liked to portray. She was more like the loner outcast girl that would probably end up getting a makeover and a pity date to Prom, if he wasn't mistaken. Except he got the impression that anyone who tried to make over Samantha Manson would probably end up losing a limb.

So was she flirting?? Kenji turned his gaze to the blackboard in front of him and tried not to think about it.

"You're scaring him," he heard Fenton mutter behind him.

"Dude, she's scaring  _me_!" Foley stage-whispered.

So this wasn't how she normally was, which could mean... no. Nope. No. It wasn't possible. She was  _not_ flirting with him.

"Mister Fenton, Mister Foley, do you have something you'd like to share with the class?" Mr. Sutter finally snapped.

"Just that it's hard to read the syllabus when the lights keep going out," Foley answered innocently.

Mr. Sutter narrowed his eyes at them, but he didn't press the issue.

Kenji decided to just never think about flirting ever again and tried to focus on the syllabus again.

Well, at least it had all the nifty safety rules. They'd be working with bunsen burners and mildly dangerous chemicals in here. Kenji wasn't sure if he should be happy about that or concerned.

Suddenly, there was a tiny  _splat_ on the lab table, right next to his hand. He looked at the little spitball and glanced behind him, immediately catching the gaze of the blond jock from earlier - Dash Baxter, if he wasn't mistaken.

Kenji glared daggers at the bully, who merely smirked right back at him.

Kenji found himself half-wishing Sara were here, just so that she would go off on Baxter in one of her protective Big Sister rants. Of course, half of him was relieved she wasn't because he was seriously considering setting fire to something near and dear to Baxter if he continued to lob spitballs at him (and  _there_ was something the movies hadn't made up.)

"Just ignore him," Manson murmured. "Sutter's not a big athletics guy. He'll get Dash off your back in a moment."

Indeed, a few more spitballs later, Sutter managed to end up right behind Baxter's lab table: the perfect position to snatch the straw out from the jock's mouth and cuff him on the back of the head. "And this is a bio-hazard and a general hazard, and I will thank you for demonstrating what not to do in this classroom  _ever again_ , hm?"

Baxter glared at Kenji like it was his fault he'd gotten caught. "Yes, sir," he grumbled.

Kenji rolled his eyes as Sutter passed between them on his way back to the head of the classroom. "So I guess Baxter hates me."

"Well, you're probably a lot smarter than he is, and you have a marketable skill that will be useful after high school. Yep, you fit the profile," Foley sniggered.

"Another thing American cinema didn't lie about," Kenji grumbled.

"It could be worse," Manson said in a low voice, smirking. "You could be a jock with no future after college."

And, well. Kenji had to laugh at that.

 

* * *

 

He had a free period after chemistry, and Sara didn't have another class until the next. So, instead of following Fenton, Foley, and Manson into the library for study hall, he jogged downstairs and across the main hall to the fine arts wing, skidding to a stop outside her door. He also noted several dead lights further down the hallway.

"Nee-san? You in there?" he knocked on the door and tried the handle. It was unlocked.

He slowly eased the classroom door open and was nearly bowled over by the smell of sage. "Good grief, how many of those are you burning?" he demanded, waving a hand in front of his face to dissipate some of it.

"Sorry. There were two more ghosts nosing around here. They said they were looking into an _energy source_ ," Sara said, turning around. She looked tired and pale, and Kenji noticed she had a sports drink in her hand.

"You zapped 'em?"

"A little."

Kenji nodded. "You made the lights flicker."

Sara wrinkled her nose. "All the way upstairs and across the building? Wow."

"Yeah. My thoughts exactly."

"No wonder I'm so tired," she announced, glaring at the drink in her hand. "And here I thought I'd be effectively retired once we settled in here."

"Turns out, Amity Park is a hotbed for spiritual activity," Kenji informed her, closing the classroom door behind him. "Danny Fenton's parents are full-time professional ghost hunters."

"Jack and Maddie Fenton? Well, that makes sense. They've been doing that forever." Sara sipped at the sports drink. "We used to live down the street from Fentonworks. They'd regularly blow stuff up down there. I remember it scaling back a little when the older daughter was born." She laughed a little. "But not that much."

"Huh." Kenji gave her a significant look.

She ignored it. "Drop it, Nii-chan."

Kenji made a face, but he did as she asked. "So will you be okay?" he pressed, gesturing at the sports drink. She had to be feeling woozy, if she was nursing what looked to be her third one since the lights went out. He could see two empty bottles under the desk, next to her bag.

"I'll be fine," she smiled weakly. "Provided nothing happens for the rest of the week."

"You've jinxed us," Kenji mock-warned her, and she rolled her eyes.

"Go to study hall and make some friends," Sara said, blowing him a kiss. "And socialize. That's what study hall is actually for."

"I've apparently been adopted into that ragtag gang of outcasts from earlier," Kenji admitted. "And I think that Manson girl is flirting with me."

Sara's eyes went wide and she set down her drink. Hard. "Oh. My. God." She got up from her seat behind her desk and slowly, carefully picked her way across the classroom.

Kenji winced. "Nee-san, don't make a big deal out of this!"

She put her hands on his shoulders and gently shook him. "Kenji, are you  _interested_ in Sam Manson?"

"No!" Kenji blushed hard. "I'm not even sure if she's flirting! I barely know her!"

Sara stopped shaking him, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Oh my god, if you get a girlfriend--"

"I'm not getting a girlfriend!" Kenji practically shouted.

"Well, if you  _did_ , I'd be happy for you!"

Kenji winced, then tried a different tack to distract her. "And if you get a boyfriend?"

Sara's face fell. "Dammit, Nii-chan, I'm not ready to date."

He wanted to kick himself. "No. Of course not." And could he blame her? She'd had to become his legal guardian before she'd even finished her sophomore year in college.

And then there had been--

"But if there  _was_ a guy that came along and you liked him..." Kenji said slowly, gently. He'd only ever seen her in love once; and not only had he approved of the guy, he'd genuinely liked Sara's first boyfriend. Sara-in-love was... a softer, happier person altogether.  _Not that she isn't a great person now_ , he reminded himself.  _But she wasn't so harsh regarding herself when she was with him_.

Sara, as always, picked up on what he was thinking almost instantly. "It makes me nervous just thinking about it," she admitted. "So let's just be two single losers together for a while longer, ne?" She drained the rest of her sports drink, and her hands stopped shaking a bit more.

Kenji surprised her - and he surprised himself, to be honest - by throwing his arms around his sister's waist and burying his face in her collarbone. "I don't know how I'm doing this," he whispered. "I've just... I've got this  _feeling_ \--"

"I know," Sara said, hugging him back and tucking his head under her chin. "I know." She rocked him slowly, rubbing circles into his shoulder. "I have the same feeling."

"I've felt it since we came here," Kenji tried to say, but he kept having to gulp. Despite the ups and downs of the day, his equilibrium was tension and vibrating nerves, unease filling his stomach and making him feel sick. He wished that the storm would just  _break_ , that whatever was going to happen would just  _happen_ so that they could deal with it, deal with the aftermath, and _move on._

"I know," Sara repeated. "It's going to be okay, Nii-chan. I'm not letting anything happen to you."

"I should be the one protecting you," he grumbled. "You do too much."

He could practically hear his sister making the same exasperated face as she usually did whenever they had this conversation; this had to have been the third or fourth time since they'd arrived in the country. She sighed heavily. "I wish you didn't feel that way."

"I  _do_ , though."

She made a sound that was almost a sob. "Damn, we're pathetic." She let out a shaky laugh.

They separated, and she turned her back to him, and he pretended not to see her wipe her eyes as she ignored his own red nose and swollen eyes.

"You want to stay in here for the rest of study hall?" Sara asked, still facing the windows. She sniffed, and grabbed at a tissue to wipe her face with.

"Yeah. I think I will," Kenji answered.

He ended up at the table closest to her desk; they spent the rest of the hour working in silence that wasn't quite easy, wasn't quite tense. The wind chimes she'd hung by the window were the only things breaking the oppressive quiet, and the scent of sage grounded them... even if it didn't entirely banish their worries.

 

* * *

 

 

Ninth period for Kenji was an elective - he'd chosen musical theory - and for Sara it was the Intro to 3D Art course. While Kenji headed down the hall to the music department, Sara set up the projector and booted up her laptop with the powerpoint on pre-civilization ceramics. The projector was a piece of shit. And, to be honest, so was her laptop, but Conner wasn't around to help her fix anything, so Sara just made do with what she had.

The class was a small one, mostly comprised of seniors who were planning on majoring in art-related courses in college. She gave the presentation, having squashed down her unease, with as much professionalism and confidence as she could possibly fake. She knew she was a damn fine actor. Years of experience had honed the Noh-like mask of her public face.

After the bell rang, a few students stayed behind to talk thesis projects and get more specific instructions on researching their preferred focus and materials. They were enthusiastic and engaged, which brightened Sara's spirits considerably. She committed their names and faces to memory, already anticipating further interactions - she really did love teaching, and this was why. Nothing like interested students to make a teacher feel wanted and needed and worthwhile.

Final class of the day was general Art History; she wasn't sure how much she was actually going to get through - this class was a whole-year course, instead of a semester - but she was planning on starting in a similar place to the others. Syllabi were handed out; she gave them their final essay prompt, due dates for the drafts, and assigned the textbook (it was the only textbook she assigned as a teacher, and it was a good one. The head librarian had winced when she'd seen the cost, but it was within the art department's budget and the chairperson had approved it.)

The last bell of the day rang, and the uneasy feeling returned almost instantly. The two - _two!_ \- ghost attacks of that day had shattered her previously wrangled confidence. It felt like an eternity ago that she'd been teasing Kenji about being afraid of American high school. She had to fight down a panic attack as, once again, students approached her to ask further questions. She managed to answer to their satisfaction, and by the time they cleared out, Kenji was waiting for her at the table he'd occupied during study hall. He was reading a book that looked to be in German. (It never ceased to amaze her, how he'd easily picked up German.)

Her brother looked up from his book and raised his eyebrows. "We good?"

"Yep. Let me make sure this place is good to go, and I'll lock up."

He made to grab her bag and she shooed him away. "Don't you have textbooks?"

"They're in the locker." He looked bewildered. "It's weird, that thing."

"You've seen so many movies with American school lockers in them. How are you still confused?"

He shrugged and snagged her shoulder bag anyway. "I'll wait by the car," he tossed over his shoulder.

Sara rolled her eyes and waved him out. She shut down all of her electronics, closed and locked the windows and storage closet, made sure no incense or sage was still burning, and that her desk was locked as well. She did one more once-over of her darkened classroom and tried to breathe out again. The ghost attacks from earlier wouldn't repeat. She had to have scared those two from the hallway, and it looked like the ghost hunters in the town had taken care of the box one. Well, if there was one nice thing about living in a town that seemed to attract all things spectrally-inclined, it was the fact that it was crawling with ghost hunters. Even if they ranged from generally competent to _why-do-we-let-you-leave-your-house_ -incompetent.

She let out the stale breath she'd been holding in as a long, deep sigh. Quickly, she backed out of the classroom and locked it up for the night. Her stomach growled as she turned the key and tested the door handle, reminding her that she not only had expended more energy than she'd planned for the day, but she'd skipped her mid-afternoon snack as well. Already planning a large-yet-simple dinner, she turned for the exit.

It should not have surprised her that the path to the school doors was blocked by another ghost.

 _SHIMATTA_.

 

* * *

 

 

Danny felt an overwhelming sense of-- pity? Empathy? Sympathy? Whatever-- for the new art teacher. Miss A looked ready to either run screaming into the late afternoon or just break down crying. While her brother had been relatively unfazed by the ghost attack they'd witnessed earlier, she seemed to be a little bit more squeamish in that area.

"Wait!" he said quickly, raising his hands, keeping the palms pointed inward at each other - that was his "I'm unarmed and not dangerous" gesture. "Wait, I was just leaving! I'm not gonna hurt you."

She responded with a harsh sentence in Japanese that he didn't have a hope to understand. He felt approximately a million times worse... and all he'd transformed to do was literally just fly to the Nasty Burger; his bike was still broken, his scooter had been totaled over the summer, and Jazz had already left in her car to tutor at the community college. Sam and Tucker were already at the Nasty Burger, and Tucker had texted him in a way that clearly communicated his impatience. So, flying seemed like a logical solution.

"Look, I am so sorry," he said as kindly as he could. "I know there are a lot of ghosts around here, but I'm here too, so I promise I'll try to keep them all at bay. It'll be almost like nothing's weird at all!" He pasted a halfway-fake smile on his face.

She squinted at him. "Excuse me, what?" she demanded, her previous calm and collected demeanor effectively shredded.

"Um. Yeah. Hi. I'm Danny Phantom? I'm sorta-kinda the town superhero, depending on who you ask." He stuck his hand out, not expecting her to shake it. (She didn't.)

"Superhero?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. Then she nodded slowly. "You were the one who got rid of that ghost with the boxes."

"Yeah. Box Ghost. He's kinda not that creative. Mostly harmless. Actually, mostly annoying." Danny laughed, a tad bit nervously. "Don't worry about him."

"And what about the red-haired devil-woman and her slimy minion?" Miss A gestured at the hallway that had the blown lights.

Danny wracked his brains for an answer. "Uh... devil-woman?" he echoed, confused.

"With the tight pantsuit and the pointy hair. She sounded like a motivation speaker, but insultingly?"

Oh.  _Oh_. "Spectra?" he exclaimed. He hadn't heard from her in a while. And she'd brought Bertrand too, apparently. "What, she was here?"

" _Yes_."

But she wasn't here now - his Ghost Sense wasn't alerting him to anything at all. "Oh, ugh, I am so sorry you ran into her," he said, as genuinely empathetic as he could possibly be. "She's kind of a pill, to be honest."

"Is she a threat?" Miss A demanded, and he saw her shoulders shake and a muscle twitch in her jaw. She was  _scared_.

He decided to go with honesty. "Yeah, she can be. But I usually handle her." He wanted to -- oh, he didn't know, pat her on the shoulder? Like, "there, there" kind of thing? -- but he didn't think she'd appreciate it, so he just floated awkwardly in front of her as she had an almost silent panic attack.

"Look, do you--" Danny glanced around, down the empty hallways and the quiet stairwells. "Do you need, like, a paper bag to breathe into?" He was starting to become massively uncomfortable, like static was prickling at his skin and making him vibrate all over.

Mss A made a noise that made him feel like the world's biggest ass. He gulped. "Oh my god, I am so sorry I am so bad at this, I am  _so sorry_ \--"

"Please," she interrupted, so quiet that he almost didn't hear her. "Please, please just let me go home."

Danny nodded. "Okay. I'm leaving. Have a safe ride home. And a good rest of the day." He turned intangible and flew out through the wall, still feeling like a heel.

Barely five minutes later, he slid into their (Tucker, Sam, and his) regular booth at the Nasty Burger and promptly thunked his head on the vinyl table. "I am the worst human-ghost hybrid in existence," he proclaimed, his announcement muffled by said table.

There was silence from Sam and Tucker as they probably exchanged surprised looks. "Well, wow." Tucker said. "Considering the only other human-ghost hybrid around is our Mayor, who got elected by overshadowing every voter in the city to gain their vote, I'd say you must have burned down an orphanage full of puppies and kittens while singing country songs?"

"The new art teacher has a ghost phobia," Danny said, turning his head so he was looking at them, his cheek pressed against the table. "I scared the shit out of her when I ran into her. I went Ghost so I could fly here. She had a panic attack. I am the worst thing  _ever_."

"Danny," Sam said, almost plaintively, "You've scared plenty of people before."

"Yeah, but for some reason this time just feels  _awful_." He closed his eyes. Maybe it was the fact that Miss A was a really cool teacher, and seemed like a genuinely nice person to be around (how did he know that, he'd only had the one class with her) but he didn't want her up and leaving just yet. That and she'd just looked so pathetic while freaking out... she looked uncomfortably young, even though she had to have been ten years older than him.

He felt Sam's hand on his shoulder. "You can't help this stuff," she said gently. "I mean, I know I already like Miss A and all, and I'd love for her to stick around too, but this town  _does_ have a reputation. And  _you_ , for that matter."

"Yeah, dude," Tucker chimed in, mindlessly stirring his root beer. "She's cool, but she's gotta buck up if she's gonna make it in Amity Park."

"I know. I just...  _ugh_ ," Danny said, as eloquently as he could.

Tucker and Sam both sighed in sympathy. "Let's change the subject," Tucker suggested. "How are we gonna survive this year's Pep Rally?"

"And Homecoming, for that matter," Sam grumbled.

Danny picked his head up and Sam slid his customary cola over to him. He gratefully took a sip and tried to put the art teacher's stricken face out of his mind.

 

* * *

 

Kenji cracked the door to Sara's room open again, Izumi at his feet. Eventually, the Akita got tired of waiting and nosed the door all the way open. Momo was already curled up with Sara on the bed, and Sara herself seemed to be asleep. She didn't even stir as Izumi jumped up on her bed and lay down along her back, whining softly. Momo sighed and nosed at Sara's hand sadly.

Kenji winced. Their first day of school had taken a bad turn rather suddenly, and he kind of wanted to demand a do-over. Or his money back, if that were even possible. The ghost attacks on Amity had been infrequent during their first two months in town, but today's incidents had hit too close to home for Sara.

To be honest, it made him want to hit something. He'd felt that way ever since their parents had died, and Sara started getting these anxiety attacks in the first place.

He closed the door shut behind him and ran his fingers over the ward that they'd pasted in the center of it. On the bed, Izumi shuffled so that he was curled in the angle of her legs. Kenji climbed up on the bed and settled on his back. He reached over and found her hand, and she was awake enough to twine their fingers together.

" _Gomen_ ," she slurred, sleepily.

"Shh."

They fell into a still silence as the ceiling fan continued to swing lazily overhead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> " _Gomen_ " = "I'm sorry."


	5. English

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Uki Uki ★ Midnight](http://du-metal.blogspot.com/2013/09/uki-uki-midnight.html) is now my preferred theme for this. My newfound obsession and love for BABYMETAL knows no bounds.
> 
> If anyone notices uncanny similarities to one _Inu-Yasha_ , I was once a fangirl. That is my excuse and I'm sticking with it. ~~I REGRET NOTHING.~~

Day two of the new school year dawned gray and strained, a lot like the sunlight as it fought its way through oppressive cloud cover.

Danny obviously couldn't find it in him to contradict the weather, but Jazz's determinedly cheerful nature was more than enough to compensate. "C'mon, Danny!" she said, nudging him across the cupholders in her second-hand sedan. "Sophomore year! You get to finally try some activities that aren't limited to upperclassmen!"

"I don't play sports," Danny pointed out, drawing stick figures on the misty windows.

"Clubs then."

"Well, if the new kid from Japan can talk his sister into it, maybe."

Jazz's eyebrows went up. "Miss Asamaoto?" She actually grinned. "Danny, did you make friends with the new kid?"

"Well, Sam did."

"And you're going to start a club with him."

Danny rolled his eyes, and Jazz had to stifle a snort. He was starting to remind her too much of their father. "Jazz," he said, in the most put-upon tone he could manage, "I literally bothered him into maybe possibly teaching me karate if this works out."

"Why do you want to learn karate?" Jazz asked, making a face. "Mom's a blackbelt in MMA, she could give you a few lessons."

Danny stared at her and blinked twice. "Jazz," he said again, slowly and enunciating every word. "Why would I, a teenager, ask my  _mom_ to teach me martial arts?"

"Because you have the good sense to use the resources you were born with," Jazz tried, narrowing her eyes at him before refocusing on the road.

" _Jazz_."

" _Danny_."

His phone beeped, and he dug into his pocket to pull it out.

Jazz sighed as her brother started tapping a reply to whoever had texted him. "Saved by the bell."

There was a buzzing noise from the passenger seat, and a blinding flash of light.

Jazz struggled to keep the car aimed straight. "Danny!" she yelled, glaring at her brother, who was now in his ghost form. "No going ghost while I'm driving! I could have swerved and hit something!"

"There's a ghost-monster-thing in the river," Danny interrupted, ignoring her. "I'm going ahead, thanks for the half-ride!" He went intangible and phased out through the seat.

Jazz let out a low growl and twisted her hands on the steering wheel. "I give up," she said to the empty car, not even caring that he'd left behind his backpack (presumably for her to bring in once she arrived at Casper High.) "I give up. I tried, and that's all that counts."

 

* * *

 

Sam was waiting when he arrived.

"I was riding on the riverwalk when this _thing_ climbed out and tried to drag me in!" She pointed at the bubbling water, and sure enough, Danny was able to pick out a ghostly aura underneath the surface.

"What did it look like?" he asked, uncapping the Fenton Thermos.

"Like a demonic turtle," she answered, with a look on her face that dared him to laugh.

Danny had been doing this for too long. He didn't laugh. "It's still in there," he said. "I can tell."

Sam stepped back towards her abandoned bike, a few feet away on the grass. "I'm not going near it. It had  _claws_."

"Most of the stuff I fight has claws," Danny pointed out, but nevertheless turned towards the river and prepared to wade in.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Both Danny and Sam whirled to face the newcomers across the river, hidden in the trees on the other bank. There were two kids, both with dark brown hair and pale skin. The older of the two, a guy, stepped out into the sunlight and grinned, flashing fangs. He looked to be about sixteen or seventeen, and he had dark eyes, pointy doglike ears on top of his head, and a curly tail covered in a lighter brown fur. The younger one was a little girl, looking about eight years old, with the same animal features. Both were wearing what looked like robes, and both were barefoot.

"And why would that be?" Sam demanded.

The girl giggled. "That's a  _kappa_ ," she answered. "If it gets a hold of you and drags you under the water, you're dead."

"Well, I'm mostly dead. So." Danny gestured to his jumpsuit and obviously ghostly appearance.

"That doesn't matter," the guy said. "You get dragged into the kappa's domain, and you're as good as vanquished. You still have a human essence."

"So what are we supposed to do then?" Danny demanded. Then he started. "Oh. Wait. You!" he pointed at Sam, who was scowling. "Civilian, you can go."

"Gee, thanks,  _Inviso-Bill_ ," she sneered, setting her bike right-side up and hopping on. She still pedaled away like the Fright Knight was chasing her, though.

Danny sighed, then turned back to the strange kids. "So, what now?" he repeated.

"You can go," the girl replied cheerfully. She sat down on the grassy bank and rolled onto her stomach. "We can wait for it to come out again."

"Uh. No." Danny shook the Thermos at the kids. "Town hero, kinda part of my job."

"This country has had few  _Youkai_ attacks," the guy crossed his arms and planted his feet, like he was preparing for a fight. "Where we come from, these things regularly happen. You were about to jump in after a kappa. You're clearly not prepared to handle anything of this kind." _  
_

Danny sighed and hung his head. "Obviously you two don't know anything about teamwork."

The girl laughed, loudly and mockingly. "Please, American," she said, resting her chin on her folded arms. "You don't know anything about  _us_."

"I'm just saying," Danny tried to keep himself from getting angry, tried to keep his voice steady and even. "I have this. It's called a Fenton Thermos, and I can capture ghosts with it."

"This is not a ghost," the guy shot back. "This is a  _demon._ "

"But it has a ghost-aura," Danny argued. "I can sense it."

"It has a spiritual aura," the girl corrected him. She looked at the guy and made a doglike whining noise. "Onii-san, he's not listening!"

"I  _am_ listening!" This was getting ridiculous, and the demon -- kappa --  _whatever --_ was just sitting there underwater, waiting. Danny might not have been an expert in foreign monsters and demons, but he knew what leaving something like this in a river in a public park could lead to. "I can't just walk away from this. Fly. Whatever." He planted his hands on his hips and met the guy's eyes, just a foot away from the river's edge. "There are people that walk through here every day. If that thing can  _kill_ them, I need to get rid of it as quickly as possible."

It happened so quickly, his ghost sense didn't even get a chance to warn him. Suddenly, the kappa was out of the water and flying at him. It did indeed look like a demented turtle, with strawlike hair, a mottled shell, and knobby skin. And weirdest of all, it had what looked like a metal bowl fastened on top of its head. It grabbed at his foot with a clawed hand, snapping its beak at him, and started to drag him towards the river.

Out of nowhere, the girl pounced on the kappa's back and surprised it enough that it let go of Danny's leg. He hadn't even been able to phase through the thing's grip. He scrabbled backwards as the kappa threw the girl off its back and made for the river again.

The guy quickly leaped over the river and landed in its path again, growling like a feral dog. The girl rejoined the battle, biting at the kappa's ankles and making it scream in pain before the guy full-body-tackled it to the ground, knocking the metal cap off of its head and revealing a small pool of water on the flat top of its head, which spilled out onto the grass.

Suddenly, the demon quit struggling and let out a surprised and pathetic squeak.

The girl growled something in another language and kicked at the kappa's shell before scooting away.

"American!" the guy called, standing up and nudging the kappa with his toe. "You said you could contain it."

Danny fumbled for the Fenton Thermos, which he'd dropped when the kappa had grabbed him. "Uh, stand clear." He activated it and aimed it at the kappa, whose eyes bulged as it tried to scrabble back to the river. It didn't get very far before the beam sucked it up and into the Thermos.

Danny dropped to his knees as the adrenaline wore off. "Holy crap," he said, rubbing at his forehead.

"I apologize for distracting you," the guy said briskly, brushing off his robe. "But the kappa has been captured, so it wasn't a total loss." He eyed the Thermos in Danny's hand. "Where will you release it?"

"Uh, will the Ghost Zone work?"

"The Spirit World," the girl said. "It would be far away from the entrance in Japan, but it would away from humans."

"Japan?" Danny repeated. "You're from Japan?"

"Yes," the guy said. He shot a glare at the girl, who stuck out her tongue at him. "I suppose releasing it into the... ' _Ghost Zone_ ' would do nicely." He regarded Danny with a long look. "It appears that this place is going to experience more frequent activity. I suppose coming to this country wasn't such a waste after all." He nodded, and both he and the girl jumped back over the river and disappeared into the forest.

Danny was suddenly very glad he had let Jazz drag him to school early. Now he had to go drop the unwelcome guest back at the Fenton portal  _and_ still make it to school in time for Homeroom.

"So much for a new year," he muttered, taking flight.

 

* * *

  

Sam had just locked her bike up and swung her bag onto her shoulder when there was a bright flash of light from behind a tree. She peered around the side just as Danny appeared, human again, and already looking dead tired.

"What happened?" she asked, under her breath. She looked him over, feeling a spike of worry in her gut. "Are you okay?"

"It tried to grab me and drag me into the river," Danny answered, just as quietly. He looked over his shoulder. "Have you seen Tucker?"

"Who wants to see Tucker?" Speak of the devil, the man himself slid into the spot next to Sam's on the bike rack and dismounted. "Did Star finally say yes to a date?"

"Ugh, really?" Sam rolled her eyes. "Your standards are criminally low, Foley."

Tucker shrugged. "What can I say? I can raise 'em when I get into college." He looked at Danny, his forehead creased. "Dude, did you not get any sleep last night?"

"Well, not really," Danny said, pushing his hair off his forehead and out of his eyes. "Skulker got out last night. I thought it'd take an hour at most, but I ended up chasing him all over the town until about two in the morning. He had a ton of  _awesome_ traps set for me in the condemned factory downtown."

Sam bit her lip while Tucker made a noise of sympathy. "You should have called us!" she scolded Danny. "We could have helped."

"Well, I will next time. But yeah, didn't sleep much. And then a  _Japanese demon_ takes up residence in Amity River."

"Wait, wait, hold up." Tucker whipped out his cell phone. "Japanese demon?"

"Yeah. Those kids called it a 'kappa'?" Sam wrinkled her nose. "I remember reading something about those somewhere."

"What kids?" Tucker interjected, looking between Sam and Danny. "What happened?"

"I got attacked this morning, on my way to school." Sam pointed at her bike, where they could clearly see the claw marks from when the demon had slashed at her tires. "It tried to knock me off my bike and drag me into the river."

"Then I came to get rid of it, and these two kids with dog ears and tails showed up and started arguing with me, and it popped back out of the river for me and tried to drag me in again." Danny shook his head as if trying to clear it. "Do you guys smell that?"

Both Sam and Tucker sniffed the air. "It's that incense that Miss A was burning yesterday," Tucker said. He gestured at Danny. "Keep going. You clearly didn't go into the river."

"No. The kids jumped the thing and knocked a metal bowl off of its head - I'm not making that up - and then it was weak enough that I was able to suck it into the Thermos. I just got here after dropping it off in the Portal." Danny started walking towards the schools doors, and Sam and Tucker fell into step beside him. "Crap, I hope Jazz left my bag in my locker."

"She probably did. You said it had a metal bowl of water on its head?" Tucker was tapping furiously on his smartphone. "Did it look like this?" He handed his phone to Danny, who tickled it to keep it awake.

Danny came to a stop in the middle of the steps. "Yeah, that's it. That's what I saw this morning." He showed the phone's screen to Sam, who had to agree.

"Yeah, it is indeed a Japanese demon called a kappa, hunts unlucky humans and horses by dragging them into nearby bodies of water and drowning 'em. You were lucky, dude." Tucker took his phone back and shuddered. "I wonder what it was doing so far from Japan? It says here that they're spiritual figures in Shinto."

"Why would people worship demons?" Danny asked, making a face.

Sam nudged him with her shoulder. "After everything we've seen, you're asking that?"

"I guess you're right," Danny admitted. "But still, how could anyone look at that thing and think 'divine' instead of 'monster'?"

"I'd reconsider who you're talking to," Tucker suggested, peering around at Sam, who made a face at him, and then he snorted. "Besides," he added. "You dealt with it. Nothing to worry about."

Sam groaned. "You just jinxed us. Again."

 

Day two of Sophomore Year started off with a bang. Literally.

There was a loud explosion down the hall from Lancer's English class, and the smoke alarm went off, forcing everyone to troop outside all the while grumbling. Sam, Danny, and Tucker found themselves waiting on the track for the fire department to show up and clear the building, and they were joined by the new kid.

Kenji Asamoto looked about as beat as Danny, and sat down in the grass as soon as he could. He buried his face in his hands, and Sam really empathized.

"Are you all right?" she asked, kneeling down next to him. To be honest, he was kind of cute in a nerdy sort of way.

Kenji slowly raised his head and peered at her, as if unsure she was actually addressing him. "No. No, not really. This school year has been nothing but a disaster, and my sister is having anxiety, and I can't do anything about it because apparently I'm not allowed to work more than ten hours a week until I'm older than sixteen!"

Sam made a face. "Oh. Yeah. I know how you feel. The labor laws in this state are kinda stupid, to be honest."

"Dude, you actually  _want_ to work?" Tucker flopped down behind them, rolling in the freshly cut grass. "I'm enjoying my freedom until my parents make me get a job!"

"Well, you actually  _have_ parents to cover your expenses, don't you?" Kenji snapped, narrowing his eyes.

The other three froze. "Shit," Sam said. "Your parents aren't around?"

Kenji closed his eyes again. "They died around three years ago. It's just me and my sister, and we're running out of money."

"Holy crap," Danny said, eyes wide. "I am so sorry about bothering you with the club stuff, I totally didn't mean to--"

"It's fine. My sister likes the idea, but." Kenji shrugged. "I've been so set on working and covering my own allowance and stuff, I didn't bother to see if I was allowed to."

"There's under-the-table stuff," Tucker suggested. "You could tutor or do commission work. What are you good at?"

"German," Kenji answered, resting his chin on a knee. "And cello. That's about it."

"You could teach Japanese," Danny suggested.

Kenji snorted. "Who wants to learn it? For the right reasons, anyway."

"You could translate. You're trilingual, that's gotta be useful." Sam tapped a finger against her temple. "I'd translate if Yiddish was useful in everyday speech."

"Does Klingon count?" Tucker wondered.

Danny laughed. "I'm gonna say no. Maybe Esperanto."

Tucker made as if to respond, then looked thoughtful. Sam was instantly suspicious.

The firetrucks roared up, sirens blaring, and the local firefighters trooped in.

"I wonder what happened," Sam said, watching them go. "That was a pretty big boom."

"It was down in the science wing," Tucker added. "I'm just glad this is only a high school. Imagine what kind of corrosive chemicals could have been unleashed."

They all shuddered.

 

* * *

 

 

It took about half an hour for the school to be cleared. The classroom in question was closed down for the rest of the day, with a team of maintenance workers disappearing inside to first grab all the pertinent student stuff and pass it along to the rightful owners, and then to quite literally re-wire the classroom. Some kind of fuse had blown, and one of the student work computers had gone up in smoke.

"Shame," Foley said as they made their way through the halls, Kenji trailing behind the others - Mr. Lancer's class had been eaten up by the fire evacuation. "If they'd just upgrade the electronics in the building, we wouldn't have to worry. Most of the school-grade stuff on the market is not only surge-proof, but more efficient and eco-friendly." He waggled his eyebrows at Manson, who grinned.

"Petition?" she suggested.

"If we can get people to sign it." Foley leaned in conspiratorially, and Fenton sniggered to their right. "I'll get the computer science class all fired up for it," he vowed.

Manson fist-bumped him. "I'll get the creative writing class in on it."

"I might be able to spread the idea in the music theory class," Kenji piped up from behind them. They turned to stare at him as he fidgeted. "There's a music composition program,  _Hanon 2.2.1_. I've used it before, and Mr. Benedict wants to bring it in. But it's for a newer model computer, and I'm fairly certain the ones this school has are at least seven or eight years out of date."

"I've heard of  _Hanon_ ," Foley said. "Yeah, it's too advanced for the current models. Sweet, we've got three classes worth of people to pitch this to."

"I feel like I should contribute, but I don't think I can." Fenton made a face. "Maybe Jazz will have ideas. Why are we planning on revamping the school's tech?"

"For the greater good!" Foley crowed. "Hey! Maybe your sister can add some pull?" He snapped his fingers and pointed at Kenji, who snorted.

"She's a new teacher," Kenji reminded him. "She doesn't have any pull yet." But she probably could pull her puppydog eyes and get some clout, he reasoned. _  
_

"She's pretty popular with the art geeks," Manson informed him. "I've been hearing good things about her advanced classes."

"Imagine! A digital rendering class! 3D animation!" Foley's eyes went starry.

"Sara can't work computers." Kenji actually sniggered. "She had this boyfriend in Japan who upgraded her laptop. He was in tears, it was so old." The look on Connor's face when Sara had presented him with her previous laptop had been  _hilarious_. Kenji had laughed for days.

Foley turned around and walked backwards so he could face Kenji. "How old are we talking?"

"A TakashiTech 2000 laptop. In 2010." _  
_

Foley laughed, loudly. "Oh my god."

"Yeah, wow," Fenton joined in. "Did she just really love the thing?"

"I'm not sure." Kenji wrinkled his nose. "All I know is that she still has it in a box in her closet, it looks like a black box, and it makes this weird noise like a dentist's drill whenever it runs."

"And she still uses it?" Foley narrowed his eyes at Kenji. "What do  _you_ use?"

Kenji snorted. "I have a tablet." And a really nice one, too. He'd gotten it for his birthday a year ago, after Sara got a really big commission.

"Yes! Hallelujah!" Foley raised his hand for a high-five, which Kenji obliged, surprised. "See, it's not crazy to have a tablet instead." He punched Fenton on the arm, and Fenton rolled his eyes.

"No, it's just crazy to -- again -- camp out overnight at the store to get one."

"They were a limited release!" Foley turned around again so he could make it upstairs. "And I'll have you remember that I got the last one."

"Impressive. What kind of tablet?" Kenji asked, drawing even. "A-Pad?"

"Pshaw, nah. Their tablets are too hard to jailbreak." Foley shook his head. "I only use their phones because they're practically indestructible  _and_ they're waterproof. They haven't figured out how to do the same for their tablets yet. Nah, man, I have a custom-built and custom-coded SkyeTech tablet, version 3.2.6." He beamed.

"Tablets are off-limits on campus," Manson added, probably for Kenji's benefit. "Otherwise it would be attached to his hand the whole day."

"No, yeah, I already had that riot act read to me." Kenji made a face. Sara had gone over the rules handbook _twice_ over the weekend. "Some things never change, no matter where you go."

"It's a shame." Manson commented, and Foley and Fenton winced as if in anticipation. "Because there are a lot of special needs kids who could use tablets to enhance their education. But  _no_ , they're banned because one kid was able to get through the web censor on the network and download porn."

"And then the web censor was upgraded when someone managed to unleash a virus on the whole school network," Fenton added. "Did we ever find out who did it?"

"Probably a senior for his final prank." Foley looked somber. "God, the network was down for three weeks while they cleaned that up," he added as an aside for Kenji.

"I assume this explanation was all for my benefit?" Kenji asked. He raised an eyebrow when they all looked at him. "Are you just trying to fill me in on school gossip?"

"Naw, man, we just like complaining," Foley -- _Tucker_ answered, slapping Kenji lightly on the back.

Kenji laughed softly. "I get the feeling I'm going to like you guys."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The _kappa_ is a river demon that does pretty much what Tucker reads about it. The source of its power on land is the wet spot on the top of their heads, which is often covered by a metal cap to prevent the water from spilling. They're also known for ravishing unsuspecting women.
> 
> There's going to be heavier leaning towards Japanese mythology and demonology from here out in regards to Sara and Kenji's personal stories and history. Of course, since I'm re-watching the _Danny Phantom_ series so I can better capture the characters' voices and personalities (and provide fix-its and character growth where the series didn't see fit to do so) there's definitely going to be some shoutouts to canon.
> 
> The Manson family is shown to be celebrating Hanukkah in the Christmas special, and Sam's grandmother speaks Yiddish in-show. I like the idea that Sam would take it upon herself to learn the language so she can talk to her Bubbi. I'm gonna go ahead and admit that I don't know that much about Judaism, but since I'm knee-deep in research into Shinto and Youkai mythology, I might as well be thorough in other areas too.
> 
> If there had to be an ending theme, [AKATSUKI](http://du-metal.blogspot.com/2013/08/akatsuki.html) would be a very strong contender. Recommended listening (AKA my playlist while writing) includes BABYMETAL, DOLL$BOXX, The Birthday Massacre, and whatever Pandora spits out at me when I tune into my Lindsey Stirling, Voltaire, and Within Temptation stations.
> 
> And Rosa messaged me over last weekend to explode at how I was finally updating this monstrosity again, demanded art, and was a general nuisance/cheerleader. Fic: it brings people together! \o/


	6. Extra-Curriculars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rosa texted me after I posted the last chapter, and it follows as thus: "SARA IS THE MAIN CHARACTER YOU DOLT."
> 
> I replied with "CALM YOUR TITS WOMAN."
> 
> So again, this intensive Sara-heavy chapter is for Rosa. I think she'll like the demon I've got picked out for the climax.

She was probably burning too much sage.

Sara was used to the sweet smell of the dried plant, but when a staff member she hadn't met yet stepped into her classroom, she heard him cough in surprise.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" She put down her palette knife and scurried to the window in order to swing it open. "I wanted to get rid of the turpentine smell. I guess I went overboard."

"What  _is_ this stuff?" the man asked, peering at the incense bowl.

"Just... herbs." She picked up her knife again and went back to mixing color. "Can I help you?"

The man swatted the air, batting the smoke away. "Uh, just wanted to introduce myself to the new teacher. You're making quite a splash here at Casper High." He grinned toothily at her and held out a hand.

Bemused, she switched the palette knife to her left hand and wiped her right hand's palm on her apron. "I didn't realize," she said, taking the man's hand and shaking it. "Exactly how is that?"

He laughed. "We've only just met and you're already fishing for compliments?"

"Not really." Sara raised an eyebrow, and the man coughed.

"You mean you haven't heard what all the kids are saying?" He peered around at the canvas she was working on.

"I haven't had the time to listen in on student gossip." Sara put her knife down again and crossed her arms.

The teacher seemed to realize he was pissing her off. "I'm sorry, I was under the impression that your brother is a student here."

"No, that would be correct. But we haven't spoken about what the students are saying." Not to mention that she'd pretty much been useless the night before, and had gotten up early due to insomnia. Kenji had slept in until she'd started cooking breakfast, and they hadn't talked much except to scold the dogs for begging.

"Well, in that case, let me fill you in." The guy grinned at her again and took a seat on the nearest desk. He gestured at the canvas. "Feel free to keep going. I'm Erik Greene, by the way. I teach computer science upstairs."

"Right. Nice to meet you." She nodded briskly and dropped her brush into the linseed oil. "Sara Asamoto."

"Enchanted," Mr. Greene said in an overly-breathy-dramatic way.

Sara closed her eyes for a moment to regain her bearings and then stirred the oil-infused brush into the glob of red-orange paint in the middle of her palette.

"What's this you're working on?" Mr. Greene asked just as she was about to touch the brush down to the canvas.

Sara fought the urge to snap at him and held her composure in an iron grip. "A commission," she finally said in a stilted voice.

"Whoa. Paid?"

 _What else?_ she thought. "Yes."

"Impressive. So it's true, that you sell paintings to pop stars?" He leaned back and his legs splayed.

Sara wanted to sigh. "I am commissioned by idols and recording artists in Japan, China, and Korea."

"Why just there?" Mr. Greene made a face. "Why not Europe?"

"I've painted for a few metal bands from Norway and Finland." Personal commissions, she didn't add, but well-paying. And the patrons had been kind enough to pass on her card when she mentioned she was moving her family overseas.

"Anybody I'd know?" He blinked, then slapped his forehead. "Probably not, I don't listen to metal from  _any_ country!" He snorted.

Sara kept the unamused expression on her face. "Uh-huh."

"Did I offend you? Oh, geez, I'm sorry." And the guy actually looked contrite. Sara's B.S.-meter was still pinging, though.

"Apology accepted," she said anyway, not needing any inter-staff drama on her second day. Hell, she'd take a youkai attack over that. "I'm sorry, I prefer to focus on my work--"

"Yeah, again, I truly  _am_ sorry." He smoothed down his button-down shirt as if by nervous tick. "Everyone tells me I have a crap sense of humor, and I guess if you don't know me it can really show..."

Sara sighed. "You didn't make a good first impression."  _You didn't even knock._

Mr. Greene actually looked at his shoes. "Sorry."

"You've said that three times now."

"I really mean it. I was hoping to roll out the welcome wagon, since you didn't even come into the teachers' lounge or anything. Not even a smoke break -- do you smoke?"

Sara made a face.

"I guess not. Well, anyway, we were concerned you didn't feel welcome. So..." he spread his arms. "Welcome to Casper High! We've got an all-meat buffet in the lounge, gourmet!"

Sara smiled a little and rubbed at the back of her neck. "I'll look into it if my bagged lunch gets ripped off."

"Great!" And now he was smiling again. "I won't bother you anymore, have a nice morning." He shook her hand again and practically march-walked off.

Sara shook her head. "Why do I always attract these kinds of guys?" she wondered aloud, being sure to do so in Japanese.

No use insulting any eavesdroppers.

  

Kenji didn't show up during his lunch period. Sara took that as a good sign, and she might have done a self-congratulatory victory dance as she continued working on her commission.

After Mr. Greene had left, she'd resumed burning the sage en masse. As long as no one came looking for her, she'd be fine. But just to be safe, she'd pasted a few protective scrolls she'd brought from the shrine back in Tokyo on the walls above the doors and windows. _If there's going to be a ghost-and-demon-free zone in this school, it's going to be here._ She opened the window to let out the smoke as her first class of the day drew closer.

There was a knock on her door, and then Mr. Lancer poked his head in. "Ah, Miss Asamoto." He wrinkled his nose as he breathed in the remainder of the sage. "What is that smell?"

"Just some incense to get rid of my paint fumes." Sara waved him in as she dragged the projector to its spot in the middle of the room. "How can I help you?"

"I just wanted to check up on you and see how you were settling in. I also wished to invite you to join us in the teachers' lounge." Mr. Lancer peered at the canvas Sara had been working on. "We've ordered some excellent ribs for today from a new restaurant. This is quite interesting, here."

Sara snorted. "It's a paid commission. He's a rather interesting idol from Tokyo. Would you believe he's fifty years old?"

Mr. Lancer looked closely at the portrait, his eyebrows raised. "No. No, I would not."

"He claims he's actually a vampire." Sara shrugged. "He stages shows around that. It's all for publicity, though."

Mr. Lancer coughed. "People actually believe this man's claims that he's a creature of the night?"

Sara snorted. "Mr. Lancer, I saw some strange things in Tokyo. Self-proclaimed vampires were the least of them."

"Interesting." Mr. Lancer glanced back at her, then resumed studying the painting. "Your technique is excellent. Is this supposed to look like Salvador Dali's surrealism?"

"I tend to take more from Magritte," Sara answered fondly. "But I decided to go with high Renaissance realism to keep in theme with the vampirism."

Mr. Lancer actually laughed. "Interesting! I look forward to seeing it finished, if that would be all right?"

"I'll keep you updated."

Mr. Lancer left, presumably to enjoy his all-meat buffet, and Sara resorted to banging on the projector with her fist until it worked.  _If Conner were here, he'd be having a fit_ , she thought with a smirk. Whether he'd be having a fit over her hitting the projector or the fact that the projector itself was at least fifteen years out-of-date was up in the air.

Nodding in satisfaction, she hooked in the ancient laptop and booted it up so she could open the prehistoric unit's powerpoint. She was already anticipating the mess she'd have to work with, seeing as she was going to start the Intro students off with charcoal. For good measure, and the satisfaction of it, Sara gave her roll of butcher's paper a spin as she passed it. She flicked the lights off to test the projector; it was nowhere near as clear as the computer's screen was, but that was fixed with a little wiping on the lens and fiddling with the focus. It was still incredibly dim, and that meant Sara would have to get a new bulb.

"You could just juice it up a little," Kenji's voice said from the doorway.

Sara turned around, eyebrows up. "Interesting," she said.

Kenji blinked, confused. "What is?"

"The fact that you and Momo both keep begging me and begging me for something you know you're not going to get, as if you're going to get a different answer  _this_ time."

"Begging? I'm not begging." Kenji made a face and edged in, shutting the door behind him. "I'm suggesting. Blandly. When did you put up all these scrolls?"

"This morning, as soon as I got in." Sara switched the lights back on and put the projector on standby.

"Was it really that bad, yesterday?" Kenji dropped his bag on the nearest table and leaned against the edge, crossing his arms. "We've seen worse."

Sara had always had a sixth sense when it came to her brother. She narrowed her eyes at him. "What."

He blinked and tilted his head, the picture of innocence. "What?"

" _What._ "

"What??"

"What are you _hiding_ from your Onee-san?" She crossed the room in four strides and jabbed him in the chest.

Kenji actually had the grace to look ashamed. "Um."

"You _have_ been hiding something from me!" Sara clapped a hand over her mouth. "What have you been hiding?!"

Kenji shuffled his feet. "Um. There may have been... um... some youkai attacks in the area over the past few months. And a few times when we were in San Francisco. And Chicago."

Sara's eyes widened, and she felt all the blood rush from her face. "What."

"They were taken care of!" Kenji held up his hands, placating her - or trying to. "I didn't get involved, either! I just..."

"Guilt by association," Sara muttered.

"Yeah," Kenji admitted. He looked at the scuffed linoleum and scratched at the back of his neck. "We didn't want you to worry."

"Well, you have achieved the opposite. There are _youkai_ in  _Amity Park_?" she all but screeched. 

"Well, yeah." Kenji crossed his arms again. "The Spirit World is kind of a big place too, I think."

"Oh, it's huge." Sara sank down into the nearest chair and tried to breathe. She knew she was getting the thousand-mile-stare she usually got when she was overthinking things."

"Nee-san--" Kenji bent over to bring himself level with her eyeline. "We're trying to take care of these things so you don't have to worry or get involved. We're really worried about you..." He looked away, and Sara sighed.

"I had hoped--" she cut herself off and glanced at her easel in the corner. "I guess it was stupid of me to hope I could end things just by leaving," she murmured, burying her face in her hands.

"Things have been minor," Kenji reassured her. He tugged her hands away from her face and firmly clasped them together within his own; he was growing up, she realized with a pang. There would be a day when he would end up taller than her; he looked more and more like their father with every passing day.

"Minor," she echoed in a disbelieving voice. "Things don't tend to stay minor."

Kenji sighed. "We've still got some tricks up our sleeves, right?"

"Yeah, but I don't even think those will last long enough." Sara sighed again. "I don't want what happened in Tokyo to repeat itself. I couldn't even bear it happening once, I think I'd die if you--" She coughed.

Kenji waited for her to swallow and get her words back.

"This week is sucking something awful," she finally said, and Kenji laughed.

"Yeah."

"You've got your charms and stuff, right?" Sara pressed.

Kenji nodded. "In my pockets. Extras in my bag."

"We try to stay uninvolved as long as we can," Sara decided. "Only if absolutely necessary will I do anything beyond... you know."

"I'm pretty sure nothing's listening in, with the amount of sage you've got burning. And the wards on the walls will do the trick pretty well too."

"I don't trust anything anymore," Sara whispered. "I can't."

Kenji sighed. "Well, this is just going to be more bad news." He let go of her hands and shoved his hands into his pockets. "The siblings went out to catch and get rid of a kappa in the river this morning. Another Hunter is in this town."

"Danny Phantom," Sara said, something clicking in her mind. "He said his name was Phantom."

Kenji blinked at her. "You've encountered him?"

"He was the one who got rid of the first ghost that showed up here yesterday." Sara gestured at the door. "The one with the boxes."

"Ah. Him." Kenji stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I think I'll ask Manson and Foley about him. Fenton seems terrified of ghosts, to be honest."

"Yeah, well," Sara made a face. "Can't blame him." She blinked, then pointed at her brother. "If you're gonna be friends with these kids, you have to learn their first names."

"Yeah, I know." Kenji rolled his eyes. "God, it's like I've never made friends before."

"You haven't," Sara reminded him. And it was true: Kenji had been a loner back in Tokyo. He'd preferred to hang around his sister and her friends; the other kids had called him strange.

Kenji snorted, surprisingly good-natured about it. "Yeah. Right." He offered her a tiny smile. "Well, to be honest, it's nice to talk to people about normal stuff."

"And?" Sara grinned, grateful for the overall total change of subject. "What sort of normal stuff have you been talking about?"

"Well..." Kenji hopped up onto the table and crossed his legs. "There's this rock band everyone says I should check out, called Dumpty Humpty?"

"Hm," Sara snorted. "I don't think they'll fit your musical tastes."

"How would you know?"

"Well, I've actually listened to the radio since we arrived here. Dumpty Humpty is just a few shades shy of punk metal." She smirked. "Just don't try to convert everyone to Yo-Yo Ma."

"Sam Manson likes Yo-Yo Ma," Kenji added slyly.

Sara gasped and swooned dramatically. "Oh, this was meant to be! Fate!!" She leaned back in her chair, and Kenji laughed.

"She's kinda cool. And not that bad-looking."

"Excuse me?" Sara jabbed a finger in his face. "What is this, judging a girl based on her appearances? Did Mom and I teach you nothing??"

Kenji laughed even harder. "Well, to be honest, the heavy eyeliner and purple lipstick might grow on me."

"This coming from the guy who wouldn't come with me to Harajuku?" Sara narrowed her eyes at him again. "It's a good thing there are wards up on all the walls and sage everywhere, or else I'd be asking what demon replaced my brother."

"Oh, you got me." Kenji mimed an arrow to the chest. "I'm secretly a fox! You caught me! Woe is me!"

"Akuryo taisan, kitsune! Bell rings in two minutes!" Sara made a grand banishing gesture. "I'll see you for Intro."

Kenji made kissy noises at her and she batted him away. He left, chortling.

It was a good thing that she trusted him, and knew he had a good grasp of reality despite his tendency to rush headfirst into trouble. Otherwise, she'd be kicking his ass so hard for what she'd found out.

"So youkai are showing up in the United States?" she said aloud. She made a face. "I seriously hope this just goes away."

 _But my luck is never that good_.

 

She ventured out of her safe zone after the bell rang again, bound and determined to make it to the teachers' lounge for hot water. All the starch and salt in the American packages of ramen would probably be considered the most unhealthy diet choice she could make, but she really needed the carbs and sodium, as she was still recovering from the previous day's exertion.

She may have been a bit dully surprised that she managed to make it this time. Indeed, there was an electric kettle over by the coffeemaker; she set it to boil and pulled a peach out of her bag to munch on while she waited. It was a personal rule that she never ate in the spaces where she was using chemicals and heavy-metal-filled materials.

"Ah, Sara! So good of you to drop by!" Principal Ishiyama appeared at her side, smiling. "I just wanted to let you know, your demonstration for the Heritage Festival has been approved. Unfortunately, Amity Park doesn't have a karate dojo in-town."

"None?" Sara asked, unwrapping her ramen.

"Well, there's a kung-fu studio, but I don't think that's what you're looking for."

Sara shook her head. "No, that wouldn't work. Thanks anyway, Karen."

Principal Ishiyama waved a hand. "It's no problem. I would offer to help myself, but I don't do martial arts at all."

"You could show up in a furisode and save me the trouble of needing to change into my hakama halfway through?" Sara suggested.

The principal rubbed her chin. "My grandmother  _did_ leave me a really nice kimono, but I'm not sure it's a furisode."

"What does it look like?"

"Well, I think it's her wedding kimono."

Sara's eyebrows went up. "Silk?"

"The finest. I have it in special storage so it doesn't get damaged."

"Oh my god, you should totally put it on just for a little bit. I'll help you with it and everything."

Principal Ishiyama grinned. "Deal. Do you actually have a furisode?"

"Yeah, my grandparents gave my mother one when she married my dad. I haven't worn it in a while, but it fit when I was in college." Sara leaned in conspiratorially, and the principal did so as well. "My Japanese grandparents were hoping they'd be able to convince her to have a Japanese-style wedding, but my dad ended up putting his foot down.  _He_ was pushing for a Western-style wedding. My mom would totally have gone along with the Shinto ceremony and everything, but my dad wouldn't hear of it. It was like  _My Big Fat Greek Wedding_ only in reverse."

"Oh, wow!" Principal Ishiyama clapped a hand to her mouth. "Did that ruin the in-laws relationship?"

"Actually, my mom and grandmother would team up on my dad after that. My mom even did the planning with my grandmother before my dad nixed the Shinto ceremony. They still gave her the furisode, to wear during the reception. The pictures are glorious."

"I'm sure they are!" Principal Ishiyama laughed as the kettle began to whistle with steam. "Be sure to bring copies, I think a lot of people would love to see that. Do you have any yukatas?"

"Oh, I had a ton when I was a kid. I gave them to my neighbors in Tokyo when I outgrew them." Sara poured the hot water carefully into the styrofoam cup. "I still have photos, of course. My mom would do my hair in these crazy hairstyles. It was _so_ nineties."

"I really want to see those!" Principal Ishiyama's face took on a wistful expression. "My parents insisted on giving me an American name; I can barely read any of the written Japanese, to be honest. I only speak it because my grandparents spoke it at home. I didn't get a yukata as a kid."

"Wear the wedding kimono," Sara urged her. "I know how to put it on, so you'll look  _amazing_."

"Should I get the hat too?"

"I don't think you'll  _need_ it." Sara considered it. "But it might be worth it to pull it out. If you have any photos of your grandmother wearing it at her wedding, that might complete it."

"Ooh, I've always wanted to put it on!" Principal Ishiyama clapped her hands excitedly. "I feel like I'm ten years old and trying on my mother's wedding dress again!"

Sara laughed. "That's really sweet, Karen."

The principal put an arm around Sara's shoulders and squeezed. "You are such a sweetheart, dear. I wish I could have had you as a student here, during my teaching days."

"I will admit, I would have loved to have gone here." Sara put a hand to her forehead and sighed dramatically. "I suppose I'll have to live vicariously through my brother instead."

"That's the spirit!" Principal Ishiyama laughed. She stepped back as Sara picked up her ramen. "Do you have any other ideas for your presentation?"

"Kenji and I can spar a little. He's more judo and aikido-inclined. I like kendo and swordfighting, to be honest."

"Wow, I didn't know that." The other woman looked impressed. "I would love for you to bring a sword or something, but I'm not sure that would fly with the police department."

"Nah, I'll just have a bamboo practice sword. The one we brought is kind of an heirloom, and I'm not breaking it out just to slice watermelons or something." Sara winked.

"That sounds great! I can't wait to see it." The principal beamed, but then caught sight of the clock. "Oh, crud, I have a meeting with some parents in a few minutes. It was nice talking to you, Sara. I'll catch up with you later." She hurried out of the lounge, and Sara was left alone with her ramen.

"Well, this should be fun," she told her pre-packaged lunch, stirring it thoughtfully. "And worse comes to worse, Kenji gets to show off his skills in front of the kids that would pick on him. Actually, this  _will_ probably be fun!"

 

Intro to Art started off exactly as she anticipated. She did the obligatory powerpoint, and kept it short. Good thing, too - the Kwan kid was nodding off on the table, and she caught Paulina Sanchez texting under the table.

"I hate confiscating phones, so this is your only warning - that goes for everyone, too." She looked pointedly at Paulina's phone, and the Hispanic girl looked surprised.

"But--"

"I don't know why it's so hard to understand," Sara talked over her. "I only want to be respected enough that you guys listen to me while I try to teach you. This stuff is the basis for a lot of careers that you might like, Miss Sanchez. Fashion design requires understanding of the basics."

Paulina's eyes widened. "Ooooh. Fashion design?"

"Yep. Think that's cool enough that you'll be able to put your phone away for an hour?"

"Yeah, totally! It sounds like more fun than being an accountant or a manager like Papá!" She exchanged a gleeful expression with the blonde girl next to her - Star, according to the roster.

Sara grinned, pleased. "Today's kind of an easy day. You guys are going to experiment with charcoal. You'll just have to try and draw animals like buffalo and wildcats and the like, nothing too difficult, but there's one big stipulation." She waited until they all were looking at her expectantly. "Whoever makes the biggest mess has to clean up during passing period. I'll provide a hall pass if you don't whine too badly."

There were scattered laughs, and she started letting students get up table by table to get sheets of butchers' paper.

"Hey, the music yesterday was really cool!" The tall red-haired girl with the glasses and the freckles - Amy - called out. "Do you have any more?"

"Oh boy," Sara heard Kenji mutter.

Sara just grinned. "As a matter of fact, I do." She leaned over her desk to push the PLAY button on her MP3 player. "Okay, today's playlist brought to you by THE TEENAGE KISSERS." The music started up, and the class settled into a rhythm.

Sara walked the class through what she wanted them to do - she had some of the more cheap, looser charcoal for the class, instead of the denser type or the vine type. The students were already getting messy, and as she passed by Kenji's table - occupied by Sam Manson, Tucker Foley, and Danny Phantom, along with the new addition of Valerie Gray - Kenji called out to her.

"This may be one of the worst ideas you've ever had," Kenji deadpanned to her in Japanese.

"You're enjoying it, admit it."

"Nope." Kenji primly wiped his dusty fingertips on a paper towel.

Sara laughed at him. "Consider this payback for being a brat."

"I'm not a brat! Momo's a brat."

"True. But you're my brother, and Momo isn't a student in my class." She ruffled his hair and he scowled at her. "How's everyone doing?" she asked, switching to English.

"This is really messy," Sam said, smudging her charcoal with her thumb. "I like it."

"Surprise, surprise," Valerie said under her breath.

"You're getting messy, too!" Tucker pointed out.

"But I plan on cleaning up afterward!"

Sara's grin took on a devious edge. "Oooh, do I have a volunteer?"

Valerie froze. "No!" she burst out, wide-eyed. "No, I have class on the other side of the building!"

Kenji shook his head at her. "She won't make you stay unless you get charcoal on  _everything_ ," he told her. "She just has a shitty sense of humor." _  
_

Sara's eyes narrowed and she grabbed a loose piece, smeared the dust on her hand, and then - quickly, before Kenji could react - rubbed it on his forehead. "What did I say about language?"

"Agh! Sara! God!"

"What did I say?"

"God, no swearing, no swearing,  _jeez_!" _  
_

The others were trying - and failing miserably - to hold in sniggers.

"See, you're embarrassing me in front of the class." Kenji glared at her, but it was a light glare. She'd probably get woken up by out-of-tune cello from the next room sometime around two the next morning.

She smiled sweetly at him. "No, I'm asserting my authority. You won't get away with anything just because you're my brother."

"Authority?" Kenji snorted at her.

"You want dinner tonight?"

"I can make my own dinner."

"Without setting off the smoke alarm?"

Kenji made a face at her. "That was one time, and I'm getting better!"

Sara snorted back at him. "Keep him outta trouble, okay?" she asked the rest of the table.

"We'll try our best, Miss A," Sam promised, grinning.

"Great!" Sara left them to their work, whistling along to the music. She stopped by her desk to take a gulp of her sports drink and then continued around the room, checking on the rest of the class's progress.

Then, suddenly, there was a yell.

Sara turned around, just in time to see Fenton getting to his feet and yelling at Dash Baxter, who had a cafeteria straw in his hand.

Sara narrowed her eyes again and set her jaw.  _Oh. Wonderful_.

"Miss A, Miss A!" Dash called, waving at her. "Fenton's trying to start a fight!"

"That's not true!" Sam yelled over him. "Dash has been shooting spitballs at us all throughout class."

Sara glanced at Kenji, who nodded slightly. Great. So Kenji had managed to get on the school bully's bad side within two days. "Right. Okay. I'm gonna have to confiscate that straw, Mister Baxter." She let her voice pitch drop a little low, and the change in atmosphere was palpable. Kenji waggled his eyebrows at her.

Dash dropped the used straw in her hand.

"And I'll take the rest of your supply, too."

"What do you mean?" Dash asked innocently.

Sara made an unamused face. "The stockpile of straws sticking out of your backpack, Mister Baxter. Spitballs are highly unsanitary, and I don't tolerate any form of bullying in my classroom. No matter how mild."

Dash's face darkened, and he dug in his backpack to present her with an impressive amount of straws. He glared over his shoulder at Kenji, who deadpanned back at Sara.

Sara raised her eyebrows. Oh, so that was how it was going to be.

"Mister Baxter, because you have indeed made a larger mess than anyone else in this room--" Spitballs were unhygienic and messy, she reasoned. "--looks like you'll be cleaning up today after class."

"What?" Dash protested. "But--but I'm a football player! Varsity!"

"I really don't care, Mister Baxter. Rules are rules, and my syllabus was pretty clear about my stance on bullying. No tolerance." Sara marched away with his straws, and she heard some sniggers coming from the geekier-inclined students.

"Rough luck, dude," she heard Kwan telling him.

"I'm gonna whale on that new kid as soon as I get out of here," Dash muttered in response.

Sara felt something cold and hard settle into her insides.  _Oh, we'll see about that._

 

Apparently, Sara hadn't counted on Dash Baxter's popularity; even the geeks he tended to torture on a regular basis ended up cleaning up after themselves so that all he had to do was wipe down the desk with the provided cleaner and scrub out the sink. Kwan didn't even leave the doorway, and as soon as Dash finished up, they pranced off.

Sara followed, mentally gearing up for whatever she'd have to do.

"Hey, Ass-mo-no!" she heard Dash yell, and a white hot fury flashed in her veins and made her fingertips tingle.

"What do you want, Baxter?" her brother snapped. "Are you really that dumb that you don't remember how I wasn't involved?"

"Dude, don't antagonize him!" Tucker urged, but Dash plowed through the students, who were gearing up for a good fight.

"I didn't think you'd be this foolish," Sara said loudly, shoving her way into the crowd forming around her brother and Dash. The kids fell silent, and Sara was very aware of her menacing presence.  _Good_. She crossed her arms.

"You know what, you don't know anything!" Dash retorted, sounding more like a sulky child than a fifteen-year-old high school student. "You're new, you don't get to give detentions to star athletes!"

"I don't see how my new status has anything to do with my duties as a disciplinarian." Sara raised an eyebrow. "But since you clearly won't listen to me, I'm going to give you a warning." She leaned in, and Dash's eyes narrowed. "If you choose to attack my brother when I am not present," Sara promised, "the consequences will be on  _your_ head. I won't have to do a thing."

Dash snorted, and she noticed Kenji bristle.

"But if he comes home with injuries and you're the cause? I can make this year very difficult for you. So I propose a more dignified solution." Sara allowed her sadistic smirk to work its way onto her face. "Kenji is in need of an aikido and judo sparring partner for this weekend's Heritage Festival. Principal Ishiyama has requested a martial arts demonstration, and there aren't any good karate dojos in town. You win the match against my brother, and I'll back off of you for the rest of the year. You lose?" Sara openly grinned, baring her teeth. "You lay off of my brother and his friends,  _and_ you get to be cleanup monkey for the quarter."

Dash tossed his head, like a stallion that hadn't yet been broken in. "Deal," he said with no hesitation.

Behind him, Kenji was wearing a smirk that matched hers. "Don't get so cocky, Mister Baxter," she warned. "Wars have been lost due to such egos."

Dash ignored her, instead rejoining his posse and disappearing down the hall towards his next class.

"Dude!" Danny Fenton said, staring at Kenji with wide eyes. "Did your sister just sign your death warrant?"

Kenji rolled his eyes. "I know martial arts. I doubt Baxter does."

"He's going to try fighting dirty," Sam said quickly.

"I know how to fight dirty," Kenji answered. He glanced at Sara. "This doesn't mean extra training, does it?"

Sara just smiled in response.

"Oh," Kenji said dryly. "Great."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone was confused by the vampire-idol joke, I'd like to introduce you to [Gackt](http://www.japanator.com/gackt-publicly-outs-himself-12135.phtml). For a while, we weren't sure how old he actually was. Nor did we care. Ah, adolescence. ([Note: this off-screen character is not actually Gackt](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LawyerFriendlyCameo).)
> 
> Surrealism is one of the few 20th century art styles that I could stomach in art history class. [Salvador Dalí](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salvador_Dali) and [René Magritte](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ren%C3%A9_Magritte) are two of my favorite artists of the movement. You may know them from the melting clocks (Dalí) and the images of the guy with the apple for a face and the "this is not a pipe" painting of a pipe (Magritte).
> 
> Rosa keeps commenting on how much I love Lancer, and HOW COULD I NOT, HE WAS PLAYED BY RON PERLMAN. But to be honest, the rest of the staff at Casper High (and there has to be more staff than Lancer and Ishiyama, come on! Lancer can't teach EVERY class! He's an English teacher!) needs more love. I have had a headcanon that Principal No-First-Name-Given Ishiyama is one of the generation of immigrants whose parents refused to teach their kids of their own heritages in order for them to be more American, so they would be accepted in society. I know a lot of people who grew up like that, and they're all researching like mad to rediscover and reclaim their foreign heritages. (I myself had to learn Spanish in school because my dad didn't speak it to me as a kid.) So, yeah. Karen Ishiyama, everyone!
> 
> THE TEENAGE KISSERS are a real band, headed by my favorite former Lolita princess Nana Kitade. They have a YouTube channel, [HERE.](http://www.youtube.com/user/THETEENAGEKISSERS) Recommended listening: "BLACK SKINNY BIRD"


End file.
